


Thicker Than Blood

by MrBendezedrine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dumbledore's Army, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Gryffindor Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy Friendship, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, POV Draco Malfoy, Panic Attacks, Quidditch, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, basically Draco is a gryffindor and hates everything, draco is really angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 57,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22868854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrBendezedrine/pseuds/MrBendezedrine
Summary: Draco Malfoy is placed into Gryffindor his first year and turns angry, cold, and bitter. Fast forward to fifth year, everything changes when he begins to open up to those around him. A slow burn, angst-filled Drarry fanfic.•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•“What’s your point here, Potter?”“My point is,” he continued, “that family doesn’t define you. And you don’t let it define you. There are ties stronger than family ones, but you don’t necessarily need to spill blood in order to form them. The friendships you make and the ones who love you no matter what are the real ties. Blood may be thicker than water, sure, but love is thicker than blood.”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 212
Kudos: 489





	1. Chapter 1

“Packed with muggles, of course.”

Draco rolled his eyes at his father’s comment. His mother simply rolled her eyes along with him, gave Draco a small smile, and clutched his hand.

“Relax, Lucius. How can you be so cynical on a day like today? Our boy, our baby boy, is finally off to Hogwarts. Oh, I am just _so_ proud.” His mother’s comment warmed his heart, as he had been nervous about this moment for the past year. _Hogwarts._

“Hi, uh, excuse me?” The three of them turned their heads at a small voice speaking behind them. "I'm so sorry, 'mam. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, could you help me get onto platform nine and three-quarters?”

Draco almost burst out laughing. It was the scrawny boy from the robe shop last week, the same one who was hanging around that big _oaf._ Of course he didn’t know how to get to the platform, the boy was probably a mudblood. _Honestly,_ he thought, _maybe it was a good thing he didn’t know how to get onto the platform. They should do that to all mudbloods, it’d be a great way to keep Hogwarts pure. Give them a taste of what our world is like without letting them in. Everyone will be happy._

But his thoughts stopped when his eyes rested upon the scrawny boy’s forehead. _Harry Potter._ He stood up straight, as did his father, realizing who the boy was.

Draco's father cleared his throat and gave a cold, sickly smile. “Of course, my boy. First year at Hogwarts?” Potter simply nodded his head in response, wide-eyed. “The same is true for our boy, Draco. I’m sure the two of you will just be the best of friends.” Potter’s eyes met Draco’s, and he instantly remembered him from the shop as well, though Draco didn’t think he enjoyed their meeting.

His mother rested a hand on Potter’s shoulder. In a hushed whisper, she said, “now, dear. Do you see that brick wall between platforms nine and ten? Yes, well, you simply will just walk through that very wall. Do not be afraid now, it will not hurt one bit. Draco will go first, and you will follow behind. Ready?”

Draco sneered at the frightened look on his face. _What a coward._ Seriously, the boy who lived, the only one to defeat Lord Voldemort, and he was scared to run at a brick wall?

“Go along now, Draco.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He breathed a sigh of relief on the other side of the barrier, finally alone. He didn’t want anyone to see him with a mudblood moron like- like _Harry Potter._

Suddenly, Draco’s mentality snapped. That’s _exactly_ what he wanted, for everyone to see him hanging around with Harry Potter. The boy was famous, powerful. Everyone knew his name, and if Draco spent all his time side by side with him, soon everyone would know the name Draco Malfoy just as well.

Before long, the other three were through the wall, his mother brushing his hair with her fingers one more time. “Oh, stop moving Draco. I do not want you to look anything but your best for the sorting ceremony.”

Once she turned to talk to his father, Draco turned to Harry, sticking out his hand. “Look, I know you remember me from the robe shop. I was a brat, and I apologize for that. I hope we can make things right between us, sit with me on the train?”

Harry took his hand, seeming almost afraid to do so. As he did, he could hear his parents muttering about them behind his back.

“Making friends with the Potter boy, excellent-”

“-oh, I just hope they are sorted into Slytherin together-”

After saying his final, formal goodbyes to his parents, it was just him and Potter. “Alright then, shall we find a spot?”

He just nodded in response, which just annoyed Draco. Honestly, could the boy even speak? 

Harry and Draco made their way through the aisle, finally settling on one of the last empty compartments. Draco waved goodbye to his parents as the train started moving, going faster and faster, leaving King's Cross far behind them.

The houses flashed past the windows, the countryside soon coming into view. Draco couldn't help but let a grin spread across his face. Honestly, it was a relief to be on his own. Outside the walls of The Manor. Without his father breathing down his neck every two seconds, watching his every move, he could finally be himself.

“Did you mean what you said?” Potter blurted out after what seemed like an eternity of silence. “I-in the robe shop, about muggles?”

Draco sighed. “I mean, kind of. It’s different from the other side, you know? I knew you grew up with muggles, and you must have really loved your family, but they’re sort of a threat to us. You ever learn about witch trials?”

Realization crossed Potter’s face. “Oh, I guess when you put it like that,”

“Oh, no,” Draco said. He had to get Potter’s trust, he had to make him like him. “They’re not all bad, just a few, you know? I didn’t _really_ mean what I said in the shop. I was just, off that day. After traveling all the way to London, avoiding being spotted by muggles all day. It was just tiring, you know?”

The boy seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “Do you think you could tell me about Hogwarts?”

"Well," Draco began, "there are four houses. My parents described them as families within Hogwarts. You take classes with them, eat with them, sleep with them, everything. There is Slytherin, who are cunning and ambitious. Ravenclaw, which has all the smart people. Gryffindor, where the brave go. They are all pretty cocky and annoying, though, if you ask me. And then there's Hufflepuff. They're just kind of the leftovers. They are potatoes, really."

Potter giggled in response, and a small smile crept onto Draco’s face. _I think this is the first time I have made a person- laugh?_ He felt a warmth creep into his heart and spread through his veins at the sound of the boy’s chuckles.

Draco spent the remainder of the train ride telling him all about the wizarding world and Hogwarts. From quidditch to classes to Aurors and Ministers, he explained it all. The silent wall that surrounded the boy had begun to fall and was replaced with a bond between the two boys. A bond of friendship.

The second they stepped off the train, the silence was back. Draco, along with all other first years, were in a trance. He had heard many stories and seen many pictures of Hogwarts, but nothing prepared him for the enchanting castle looming over him, reflecting off the glass-like waters of the Black Lake as he glided towards his home for the next seven years.

Everything went by so fast, and before he knew it, Draco was standing in the Great Hall, in front of the entire school, in the middle of the sorting ceremony.

“Malfoy, Draco.”

He wasn’t worried in the slightest. He would be sorted into Slytherin, the same as his entire family preceding him. With a smirk on his face, he felt the weight of the hat placed on his head. His smirk fell, however, when the hat remained silent.

 _What is going on?_ He thought.

 _“Hmm, another Malfoy.”_ Draco heard a voice boom through his head. He couldn’t tell if he was the only one who could hear the hat, but he hoped that he was. _“A long line of Slytherins come before you.”_

 _Yes, I know._ He scolded the hat. _It is where I belong, I know I belong there. Slytherin will lead me to greatness._

_“Ah, yes, yes. Slytherin does produce many successful wizards, but as you know, Slytherin does produce many dark wizards, as well.”_

He couldn’t tell from the looks on his peer’s faces, but if everyone could hear the hat, Draco would be absolutely mortified. _Are you suggesting I am a dark wizard?_

_“Oh, no, of course not! But Slytherin can shape people, especially those who come from the same background as you. I think you need something new, something different. Something that will give you a fresh perspective on the world. Simply think of this as a change of scenery, perhaps. I can assure you this path will lead you to greatness, just as Slytherin would.”_

Draco panicked. _No, what are you-_

_“GRYFFINDOR!”_

A round of applause ensued, and Professor McGonagall gave him a smile as she removed the hat from his head. He looked over to the Slytherin table, a scowl on almost every face. Blaise Zabini, whom he learned to play quidditch with, refused to look at him. Pansy Parkinson, whose mother had many dinner parties with his mother, was giving him a look that he was sure would kill him.

His parents were going to kill him.

Potter sat next to him. “Draco, I’m so-”

“Do not speak to me!” Draco yelled. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, his heart pounding. “This is your fault! You are the one who sat with me on the train, and _infected_ me with, with whatever muggle curse that you picked up that landed me in this house!”

Percy Weasley, one of the Gryffindor prefects, came up behind Draco. “Malfoy, I think you need to calm-”

“No!” He stood up. “You cannot tell me what to do! I will not listen to you! I do not belong in this house, I belong over there,” He pointed at the Slytherin table, “and I do not care what some stupid hat says! I am Draco Malfoy, I am a Slytherin, and I will never, _never,_ be a Gryffindor.”

He ran from the room, never looking back at the Great Hall shocked in silence behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brand new story, I'm very excited for it! Please let me know what you think, I am very open to some constructive criticism :) This is also my first Harry Potter work, so I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Updates every Sunday and Thursday :)


	2. Chapter 2

_Four years later._

“I received a letter from Lucius last night.”

Draco lifted his head from out of his potions textbook and stared into his godfather’s black eyes, trying and failing to read his blank expression.

It was the afternoon that the remainder of Hogwarts students would arrive at the castle, but Draco had been here all summer. He had been here every summer, actually. Apart from traveling to Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, Draco had not stepped a foot out of Hogwarts since arriving in his first year. The morning after the sorting ceremony, he had received a howler from his mother. He can’t quite remember the exact wording, but it was something along the lines of “you have disgraced our bloodline” and “we hope to never see you again.” That meant that once summer rolled around, he was no longer welcome to return to The Manor.

After the school year, Professor Snape allowed him to stay at the Castle with him over the summer with the permission of Dumbledore. Draco stayed in a bedroom connected to an unused classroom, originally designed for a previous professor. Dumbledore kept this arrangement under the table, and the only people who knew about Draco Malfoy’s permanent residence at Hogwarts were the professors themselves. His parents had no idea where he was currently living, nor did they ever try to figure it out. Snape regularly wrote to them, being close friends, but never once mentioned Draco.

He had spent the majority of his first year hiding in the library. He had no one to talk to, no one to turn to. After being shunned from his family and the entirety of the Slytherin house, he grew cold and sinister. Potter had tried to talk to him, and every time he had done so, Draco just snapped in return. He had been part of why he ended up where he did, and Draco refuses to believe that might not be true.

After a few weeks of trying to talk to him, he eventually gave up. Everyone had thought Potter was a fool for trying to befriend Draco Malfoy, and they were definitely right. No one would ever be friends with him, he wouldn’t dare let anyone get close enough to him. Why put yourself in a position of emotional vulnerability to someone? Nothing good would ever come from it. At best, he would have a feeling of brief happiness. At worst, the same thing would happen all over again, everyone would betray him and hurt him.

He tried to put on this facade of simply being cold and sinister, appearing as emotionless as possible. In reality, he had cried himself to sleep every night until Halloween. He was drowning, unable to scream with all the water in his lungs. His parents, his family, his true house, were all suffocating and silencing him while burying him beneath the waves of disappointment he brought them.

His first Christmas was especially hard. He turned to his books and found an escape. The more he threw himself into his schoolwork, the less he had to think about those around him. The only thing that mattered to Draco was himself and his grades. It paid off in the end, too. He had received the highest marks in his year. He nearly lost to Hermione Granger, but he scored one point higher on his potions final examination than her.

Snape was the only person Draco talked to. He would occasionally have some genuine conversations with some of the other professors, but they were almost always related to academia. He was now just two days away from beginning his fifth year at Hogwarts, and this was all still true.

Draco was curious as to why Snape would mention his father’s letter to him. He rarely ever spoke of him, so it must have been of importance.

He closed his book and sat it beside him. Placing his hands on either side of his legs that were swinging off the side of the table of which he was sitting upon. “And what exactly did he say?”

Snape gave a disappointed sigh. “You have a brother.”

Draco’s heart sank. _Of course. Why are you surprised? They disowned you, they have already burned your name off the family long ago. They need someone else to carry on the bloodline. You should be surprised that they waited this long to do this._

“He was born last night. Cephus Lucius Malfoy.”

Draco sneered. “What a bloody stupid name, that is. _Cephus._ God, if I ever procreate, do not let me name my child something as idiotic as Cephus.”

He looked disappointed. “You know, a name like that has great value to your family-”

“I have no family.” Draco snapped, jumping off the table and grabbing his book. 

“Well, perhaps you could change that. I know I am not exactly the most inviting person, I too enjoy keeping to myself. You know that. But I do have people I talk to, people I trust. People I can go out with and enjoy my time. Just because you live an unfortunate life does not mean you must torture yourself.”

“Those people that you trust are the same ones that have made me the way I am, the same ones that have now replaced me.” His words were bitter and laced with venom.

It seemed that Snape was just constantly disappointed with every word that left Draco’s mouth today. “You know I only still keep in touch with them to protect you.”

Draco stared at the ground, shifting his weight between his feet. “I should get going to the station. The train will be here soon.”

Without another word he grabbed his book and his back and stormed out of the room. He had already moved his belongings in his trunk to his common room and changed into his school robes earlier this morning. He made sure he gave his prefect badge a little polish before checking his watch, when he realized he only had twenty minutes to make it to the Hogsmeade station before the rest of the students would be here. If he didn’t make it in time, he wouldn’t catch the carriages with the rest of the students and someone might put two and two together and realize Draco Malfoy had really been at Hogwarts all summer. He broke into a light jog, trying not to stumble over any rocks on the path as he left the castle. 

As he made his way, he let his mind wander. Would this year be any different? Would he spend his days locked in his dormitory with the curtains drawn as the rest of his classmates had the time of their lives? Would he spend more time reading a textbook than actually holding a conversation with anyone? At least he was a prefect, so if anyone bothered him he could just give them a detention. Not that he would use that power, of course, because it would mean he’d have to deal with conflict. He didn’t care about the power, he was just thankful that he was recognized as one of the more intelligent students at Hogwarts. And at least he would pass his O.W.L.s, he was sure of that. The only class he was slightly worried about was Care of Magical Creatures, as that was the only class Hermione Granger ever beat him in, third year.

Draco made it to the station just in time to slip into the crowd of students making their way to the carriages. 

“Malfoy,” he heard a hiss and whipped his head around. Granger, of course. “Where were you? All the prefects were supposed to be in the compartment-”

“I know, I know.” Draco cut her off. “I must have had something horrible before getting on the train, I spent the whole ride in the lavatory. I am feeling better now, though. Perhaps it was just motion sickness.” 

She gave him a quizzical look, then scoffed. “Oh, alright then,” and the two of them headed to the prefect’s carriage in silence. Draco didn’t mind Granger, she was always friendly enough towards him, even after she thought he was the one who sent the basilisk out to kill the muggle-born students their second year. He also had some respect for her, she was the only one who could keep up with him in school.

They climbed in the carriage with the Hufflepuff prefects, Granger making polite conversation with them while Draco stared off in the distance. He fixated on the carriage in front of them, containing Potter and one of the Weasleys.

“Potter also looks awfully ill, doesn’t he?” Draco asked Granger when they started moving. It was true, he had turned a sickly white and seemed even paler than his friend. He kept taking double-takes at the empty space in front of the carriage, as if he didn’t ride the same one every single year.

“He seemed fine when he got off the train,” she remarked. “I’ll have to ask him at dinner.” Draco nodded and tried to not pay attention to Potter, but he couldn’t help it. Potter seemed to calm down as he began talking to another student in the carriage. Everything clicked when Draco realized he was talking to Lovegood, and he had probably just seen the thestrals for the first time. Draco had never seen them himself, though they’re mentioned briefly in _Hogwarts, a History._ Of course, everyone skips over that chapter, so there is always some poor student who comes to Hogwarts after a particularly traumatizing summer and freaks out upon seeing them. And that student was Potter.

He began to calm down, letting his shoulders drop and his body relax. His robe slipped down his shoulders, and even in the dark, Draco could still see the bruises peaking out on his back. Once they got to the feast and sat down at the Gryffindor table, Draco could clearly see more bruises on his wrist, a busted lip, and dark circles under his eyes.

It was like this every year. Every year he’d seem so disappointed to go home, and whenever he returned, he was covered in cuts and bruises, and his eyes shone a little less. Draco didn’t know why he cared so much, he despised Harry Potter. But for whatever reason, Draco felt sorry for him, and even a little hurt whenever he saw the bruises.

Draco politely clapped through the sorting ceremony, listening to bits and pieces of the conversations around him. The Weasley twins were planning some massive prank against the Slytherins, a few second years were complaining about not being able to eat yet, and Potter, Granger, and Weasley were talking about a woman named Umbridge, who he presumed to be the new professor sitting at the staff table.

Draco zoned out during the feast, not even listening to any of the speeches that were given. He picked at his food, his mind empty, until it was time to lead the first years to the common room with the other prefects.

“ _Mimbulus mimbletonia!_ ” The door to the Gryffindor common room swung open, and one by one, they entered the common room. The first years _‘ooo’ed_ and ‘ _aah’ed_ at the charming atmosphere, muttering to themselves.

“This is so pretty!”

“-and the fireplace! Oh, I just can’t wait to curl up with a book in front of it-”

“- but I can’t believe I’m in a house with _mudbloods_ though. And even our prefect is one? How could they ever let-”

Draco whipped his head around at the group of first years who had just crawled through the portrait hole. “Who said that?” He yelled.

He felt his cheeks grow hot as he glared at his fellow housemates. He clenched his fists and his jaw, feeling his eyes ready to pop out of his head.

Everyone froze, including the upperclassmen. Most people had never even heard him speak before, let alone raise his voice.

No one said anything. “I asked a question, and I expect an answer.”

The boy near the front of the group shyly raised his hand, and Draco bent over so he has face to face with him. “Now tell me why you thought it was okay to say that word, and why you thought it was okay to say about another person?”

“I-I didn’t think it was that bad-”

“I do not care!” He shouted, standing back up. “That kind of thinking is severely outdated, to begin with, and that word is very disrespectful, and quite frankly, very racist. If I hear you, or anyone else for that matter, ever use that word again, especially while talking about another student, you will receive a detention, and it will not be a pretty one. Is that understood?”

The first years were frozen in terror, but finally slowly nodded their heads. Even the other students around the common room were shocked, Potter’s jaw had dropped.

“Fantastic. And welcome to Gryffindor house, by the way, I hope you have a splendid evening.” And with that he stormed off to his room, leaving a dead silent common room behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I did not expect this many people to read my first chapter! Thanks so much for all your support :)
> 
> PLEASE let me know what you think of this story! It is my first Harry Potter work, so it won't be perfect. I'm open to all forms of criticism, if you loved it, if you hate it, if you really don't care, anything!
> 
> Updates will be every Thursday and Sunday
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I will see all you lovely people again on Sunday :)


	3. Chapter 3

_Why did he do that?_

Draco was in his bed, laying on his back, hands folded across his stomach. _Why did he get so angry? What caused him to burst out like that?_

Sure, he disliked the word. He used to always be the one to use it, but once he was disowned by his family, he realized that pureblood ideology was just a load of shit. In fact, procreating with muggles would raise the wizarding population, so why was it so frowned upon? Magic was something to be celebrated, to be proud of, not something to be kept behind closed doors.

Even so, he didn’t know why he got so angry. He was always great at controlling his emotions, or at least he thought he was. Whenever someone would pick on him or shoot him the wrong look, he would simply make a snide remark and keep walking. He would always be the silent kid in class, in the library. He had never caused a scene like that, so what happened?

Maybe it was because the word was directed at Granger. Again, he didn’t mind her, but it’s not like he was friends with the girl, either.

Or perhaps it was because he spent all summer locked up alone in a castle with minimal human interaction, and being around a few hundred at once made him so horribly irritable. 

Yes. That had to be it.

The other boys came into the dormitory, breaking his train of thought. He suddenly felt uneasy, as their usual boisterous voices immediately turned to soft whispers. He turned his head to glare at them, and they all quickly turned their heads away.

Ah, yes. They were talking about him.

He continued to glare at them, locking eyes with Potter when he turned back around. His eyes pierced into his, making him feel uneasy in the stomach. Scoffing, he dramatically whipped his bed curtains shut. He cast a silencing charm on his bed, so even if they continued talking about them, he wouldn’t have to hear it.

He didn’t care about what they had to say about him. It was probably the same as always, about how he’s just so depressing, how he’s a disappointment, a traitor, et cetera, et cetera. But that didn’t mean that the whispers didn’t bother him.

Draco liked being invisible. He didn’t care what others thought about him, but he just preferred if they didn’t think of him at all.

He drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a perfect world in which he was the only one.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Thankfully, Draco was able to start his day off right, with potions.

Unfortunately, he seemed to be the only one in his house who thought so, and it was usually a painful class to sit through. He was the only one who Snape was somewhat decent to, but it wasn’t just because he has his godfather. It was because Draco was the only competent person in that class.

But of course, Snape just had to torture him by partnering him with Granger, a smirk crawling onto his face when he read off the names. 

At least he wasn’t with Finnigan. God, he’d rather jump off the Astronomy tower than have him burn his hair off.

“Okay, so Draught of Peace, should be simple enough,” she said. Draco merely rolled his eyes. They began their potion, working in near silence, Draco grateful for this. While she was very smart, Granger was also quite bossy, even when she wasn’t right. It was very annoying.

“Let me stir the potion,” he demanded, and she nodded, stepping aside from the cauldron. He stirred the potion three times counterclockwise, as the blackboard said, and then once clockwise and one more time counterclockwise. Granger nearly had a stroke.

“What-” She exclaimed, putting her head over the cauldron,“-are you doing! The instructions _clearly_ said to stir three times counterclockwise-”

“Which I did.” Draco interrupted. “Which I then followed with one stir in each direction, canceling them out.” She still seemed furious and confused, so he continued. “The potion will still brew correctly either way, as I _really_ only stirred it three times, but changing direction and stirring it five times after adding the moonstone reduces the potency of the moonstone. If you only stir it three times, as the instructions say, the potion will induce grogginess after the main effect wears off, as the moonstone is too strong. But you still have to add the full amount of moonstone, or else it will just simply not work. When you stir it like this, you effectively prevent that side effect from ever occurring while still ensuring the potion functions as normal.”

She seemed shocked. “But, but then why wouldn’t the instructions say to stir it like that!”

He rolled his eyes. “There are many ways to brew a potion. A textbook will give you the most simple way, so people like Potter do not end up inadvertently killing themselves in the middle of a lesson.”

They glanced over, and sure enough, Potter and Weasley’s cauldron was boiling over with black goop. Granger stifled a giggle.

“But, how did you know to do that?” She asked.

He shrugged. “Read up on it over the summer. I cannot remember the name of the book to save my life, but it discussed the properties and potency of powdered potion ingredients. I am sure you can find it in the library somewhere, just ask Pince and she should know what I am talking about.” _Why was he being so nice?_

She nodded, with a quiet “thank you,” and they continued their potion in silence. Draco had almost completely forgotten about his outburst the night before until she brought it up.

“Malfoy, can I ask you a question?” She asked quietly, as if she was afraid, and he briefly looked up from the cauldron to raise his eyebrows, signaling her to go ahead. “What- why did you defend me yesterday?”

His heart sank. He really didn’t know why he did it, and he really didn’t want people to remember that he did it. He just stared at her directly in the eyes and shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t question it further.

She sighed. “I appreciate it, I really do. It was just out of character for you and-”

“You know nothing about me, nothing about my _character,_ ” he snarled through his teeth, his voice shifting to coldness, as he clenched his fist around his wand. “Just drop it.”

“But-”

“I said just drop it!” He realized he had raised his voice and the entire class was staring at him. The dropping feeling in his stomach from last night had returned. The voices started back up again, and they knew they were all murmuring about him again. This was worse than before, as it wasn’t just Gryffindors. No, this was the class they shared with Slytherin, so now the story of last night’s outburst was spreading through the houses and around the castle. As if the Slytherins didn’t already think he was a blood traitor.

_Fuck you Granger._

His hands were cold and clammy, and he could barely hold onto his wand. But they managed to complete their potion, along with only five other pairs. Of course, they were awarded ten extra points for their exceptional alteration.

Snape’s last words had barely left his lips when Draco bolted out the door. 

The halls were loud. The common room was even louder. And for whatever reason, Draco thought Pince might have been kidnapped, because the library was the loudest. Everywhere he went, the whispers, the names, followed him. This was _not_ how Draco wanted to start the school year.

He had nowhere to go. He didn’t have class until later that afternoon. He couldn’t hide outside somewhere, it was too nice outside and everyone was there. There were always people in the common room. He couldn’t go to the Great Hall. Snape was teaching a class, so he couldn’t hide in his office. He needed _somewhere_ to hide, _somewhere_ to escape it all.

He found himself pacing back and forth on the seventh floor, where despite not being too crowded, the whispers were still following him. Suddenly, a door appeared to his right, and he decided it was in his best interest to duck into this mysterious room before anyone else did.

It was perfect.

The room was completely silent. It was empty apart from a large, plush armchair, a side table, and a fireplace with a warm, gentle fire. 

He sank into the seat and immediately felt at ease. He didn’t know what this place was, or how he had come across it, but he was certain that no one else would be here. It was exactly what he had needed.

He took out his parchment and quill and began working on his potions essay that was just assigned, writing it with ease. He only had to write 12 inches on moonstone, but he felt as if he could write miles and miles about it. His thoughts of everyone talking about him had long left his mind, as all he could think about was potions. He let his mind and his quill wander, getting lost in his work.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The crackling of the fire in the mysterious room was replaced with the crackling of the fire in the Gryffindor common room later that evening.

To his surprise, the common room was empty after dinner. The only occupants were Draco and Octavia.

Octavia, of course, was Draco’s cat.

She was curled in his lap, purring, as he read his Ancient Runes textbook with one hand, the other stroking her silky black fur. Of course, he did have his owl, too. But it wasn’t like he had anyone to write to. And besides, he couldn’t necessarily go and snuggle up with an owl in the owlery.

He heard a faint meow and his head shot up, as Octavia never meowed. _Crookshanks._

“What is it, Granger.”

She cautiously stepped out from the stairway leading to the girls’ dormitory, as if every step she took would break the floorboards in half. “I, uh-” she trailed off, obviously nervous.

He rolled his eyes, scoffing. “I am not going to be here all night, you know.”

She took a cautious step back. “I was just wondering if you would help me go over my potions essay?” He turned his head so he was actually facing her, raising an eyebrow. In all of the four years they had been at school together, they had always been the top of their class. She had never approached him for help, he didn’t think that she would need to approach _anyone_ for help. “I just, I know you were talking about how you read that book about moonstone, it was checked out of the library so I couldn’t get it. I don’t think I exactly nailed it- and I, I just-” she trailed off, stumbling over her words.

 _Fuck off, Granger,_ was what he wanted to say. But for whatever reason, the words didn’t leave his mouth. He shut his book gently, motioning for her to give him the essay. She gave him the parchment as if she was afraid her hand would burn if she dared touch him.

As he began to read, he noticed she was still awkwardly standing next to the chair. “Take a seat, Granger. I cannot focus with you breathing down my neck.” 

_It was an excellent essay._ He had never actually seen any of her work before, he just knew that she was bright.

“It is very long,” he noted. “If I recall correctly, Snape said twelve inches. This has got to be, what, eighteen inches?”

She nodded. “Nineteen and a half.”

“And you wonder why Snape dislikes you Gryffindors so much.” He handed her back the parchment. “You need to cut it down, it should be fourteen inches _at most._ I made some suggestions on what to cut, the essay should focus on the _properties_ of moonstone. You do not need to go off about the discovery in the beginning. It adds a nice perspective, but there is a limit.”

“Thank you-”

“It sounds like a textbook. It is not word for word from ours, but it sounds as if it might as well be. Yes, it is supposed to be highly factual, and everything you have is correct. But I can see you are an excellent writer, so show it off a little more.”

 _Why was he being so nice?_ Maybe what Snape had said had resonated with him. _“But I do have people I talk to, people I trust. People I can go out with and enjoy my time. Just because you live an unfortunate life does not mean you must torture yourself.”_

She nodded, looking down with a small smile. “Thank you, that does mean a lot-”

“What in the bloody hell are the two of you doing?”

The two of them whipped around to see Potter standing in the middle of the common room, shocked to see the two of them talking together.

“Oh, I was just asking Malfoy-”

“So you are _voluntarily_ speaking with him now?” He seemed revolted, his emerald eyes nearly bursting out of his head in disgust, and Draco couldn’t help but scoff. 

“Oh, sod off, Potter. We are just doing some homework. At least Granger turned to someone for help instead of just copying off someone else. Judging by your performance in potions today, you could afford to do the same. Maybe then you would not be failing so miserably on your first day back.”

He looked hurt. “No need to be such a git, Malfoy,” he scowled, storming off.

“You didn’t have to be so rude, you know.” 

His nostrils flared. “Are you kidding me? _He_ came in here _disgusted_ that you were even talking to me. I was merely sticking up for myself, you think I am going to let him just walk all over me like that? You _have_ to be delusional.”

She sighed. “I mean, I guess you have a point-”

“I would not dislike him so much if he did not make it a point to sneer at me every chance he gets. What is his problem with me, anyway?”

“He- he’s just been on edge since we’ve gotten back. It kinda does seem like everyone is against him, since no one believes him.”

“I believe him.”

She gasped. “You- you do?”

He leaned forward. “Of course I do. I know that man has done terrible, terrible things. I have heard the stories that my parents speak of behind closed doors. I do not doubt, for one second, that he has finally returned.”

“I mean, I think that’s another reason he doesn’t like you. He doesn’t trust you, since, your parents-” she trailed off.

“Death Eaters. I know, you do not have to be afraid to say the word. I know what they were.” He leaned back, running his hand through his hair, laughing. “Oh, do not look so scared, Granger. I was disowned by my family the second they found out about me being in Gryffindor. I have not spoken to them, nor seen them, in five years.”

“What-”

“I believed this was common knowledge.” He grabbed his book, not wanting to talk about it anymore. He was already regretting telling her in the first place. “Well this has been lovely, but I do need to sleep. Why do they schedule Arithmancy so early in the morning?” She didn’t respond. “Speaking of, I could use some of your help in that class, as well. I did not read _nearly_ enough over the summer as I should have. Library after dinner?”

She seemed taken aback. “I- uh- sure, I guess.”

“Fantastic. Well, do have an excellent night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for continuing your support! It makes me so happy when people continue reading my story :)
> 
> PLEASE let me know what you think of this story! It is my first Harry Potter work, so it won't be perfect. I'm open to all forms of criticism, if you loved it, if you hate it, if you really don't care, anything!
> 
> Updates are every Thursday and Sunday!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I will see all you lovely people again on Thursday :)


	4. Chapter 4

Draco tapped his quill nervously on the table.

Dinner had ended at eight. It was not quarter past eight, and Granger had yet to show up.

_Was she going to stand him up?_

He felt stick to his stomach, his hands were sweaty, and he could not stop his knee from bouncing up and down. He had seen her in class earlier today, but hadn’t seen her at dinner. Maybe she got sick between class and now, and was laying in a bed in the Hospital Wing, hurt and-

 _No._ That would be ridiculous. 

Maybe she didn’t get his owl. Then she would never find him in the library, assuming that _he_ had been the one to stand _her_ up. That would make Potter just loathe him. The previous night, he had simply told her to meet him in the library, yet he hadn’t specified where exactly to meet. He ended up reserving a private study room in the back of the library for them to study together. If they had sat together, in the middle of the library, he couldn’t imagine the stares and whispers they’d get. He thought back to how Potter had reacted when they were seen together in the Gryffindor common room. About how the whole school blew up in rumors following Draco’s outburst on the first-year student. If people saw them together, again, for the _third_ time in just the first few days of school, he didn’t know what they would think.

That was a lie. He knew _exactly_ what people would say. The Slytherins would belittle him for befriending a muggle-born, just giving them another reason to shun him for all of eternity. Some people would be furious at Granger for ever trying to help such a pitiful person. Half the school would assume they began a relationship. That wouldn’t have been so terrible, it might hurt him inside, but it would preserve his reputation. It was better than if they found out the truth about his sexuality. But worst of all, he feared that people would begin to dislike Granger for hanging out with him.

He shook the thoughts out of his head. It was now twenty past the hour, and she had still not shown up. She _had_ to have got his owl to meet him in this room instead of the library, as his owl had returned to the owlery right before dinner.

Maybe she just didn’t want to be with him.

That had to have been it. Potter must’ve talked to her before dinner, convincing her to never speak to him again. Or maybe she realized it of her own accord, that she didn’t want to associate with such a-

Suddenly the door to the room banged open. “I’m so sorry I’m so late, Pince was just so _annoyed_ with me and it took _forever_ to get my books.”

He looked at her in astonishment. He hurried in the room, closing the door with her foot. A stack of books at least seven tall sat in her arms, just covering her face. Her hair was frizzier than usual, sticking out in every which way. Her cheeks were flushed, a bright rosy red, and her forehead was the slightest bit shiny with sweat.

A small smile crept onto Draco’s face. The fact that she was obviously stressed that she was so late and the multitude of arithmancy books she had brought clearly showed that she really wanted to help him. _Someone wanted to help him._

“What are you smiling at, Malfoy?”

He broke from his train of thought, watching her sit across him, grabbing even more books from her bag and organizing them into near piles.

“Oh, uh-” he was flustered. “It was nothing.”

She gave a skeptical nod. “Okay, sure. Now I wasn’t exactly sure what you needed help on, so I prepared for everything.” He fought to suppress a chuckle. “Obviously not _everything,_ I know you scored higher than me on our exam last term. But this is just everything that I had read over the summer-”

“You read all of this in one summer?” He was amazed. He had read five books, at most, over the summer, and he was the one who was locked up in a castle.

“Oh no, this was just for arithmancy.” She corrected. “I also read about six other books, mostly for ancient runes and herbology.”

His jaw dropped. “You amaze me.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, and she was obviously uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I-”

“So where did you want to start?” He was thankful that she had cut him off, as he didn’t particularly want to have a conversation about his feelings with _Hermione Granger._

He wasn’t exactly sure what he didn’t know, which just frustrated him. “Well, I was just really behind during class yesterday. I was able to catch up a bit and it made more sense today, but I just did not really grasp the main concepts in either class.”

She nodded, grabbing the book closest to her. “I know exactly where to start.”

They spent the next two hours pouring over every book that she had brought. He ended up with two feet of parchment worth of notes, diagrams, and frustrated scribbles. By the time they had to leave for curfew, he felt as if he could take his O.W.L. right now and not fail miserably.

“This was really, really helpful, actually. I am really glad I asked you for help. Thank you so much.”

She smiled. “Oh, it was my pleasure. Arithmancy _is_ my favorite subject, of course.”

“Really?” He was shocked. “But- but you hate Divination so much? They are really similar, I cannot see how you can love one but despise the other.”

She huffed as if she had been told this a million times before. “Divination is just arbitrary guesses and made-up tales. Arithmancy takes a _practical_ approach to predictions. Besides, it’s not just about telling the future. It has applications in cryptology, curse-breaking…”

She continued to list every single career you need an O.W.L. in arithmancy in as they packed up and walked out of the library. He continued to nod but wasn’t really listening.

“Well, why do you like potions so much?” 

He smiled. “I just always have. When I was a kid I had a potions set, and it was my favorite thing in the world, next to my broomstick. I just loved mixing everything together to see what would happen. I spent my childhood experimenting, on seeing what would happen if you stirred the potion or if you let it sit still. When I came to Hogwarts, it was the only subject that really came naturally to me. It just makes _sense,_ you know? I get things the first time around. As I got older, I would always read potion texts for fun. They just- they can do _anything,_ you know? You can turn someone into a Newt or make someone fall in love or heal your wounds, the possibilities are just _endless._ And it is one of the few ways that can be used for good or evil. You could be the most brilliant potion master and have the option to help start a war or save one. It holds so much power, and just, I don’t know I’m just rambling now. Sorry.”

She smiled back. “Don’t apologize. It’s really nice to know what you’re passionate about, you know? Everyone always sees you as this cold and reserved person, but I know you’re not.”

He awkwardly stared at his feet. “I guess.”

“You said you also loved your broomstick?” He poked his head up and nodded. “Why haven’t you ever tried out for quidditch?”

He sighed. “It was my dream to be the seeker for Slytherin. When I got sorted, that dream just got crushed, and I pushed it to the back of my mind. I never really thought about it again.”

“You should try out tomorrow!” She exclaimed. “It would be really good for you! I mean, you’ve started talking to me, and maybe it would be nice to meet other people too and-”

“You do not know what is good for me.” He snapped, suddenly turning cold. “Besides, even though he is not captain, it really is _Potter’s_ team. If I did try out, he would never let me on, not in a million years.”

“You- you do know he has detention, right? With Professor Umbridge? He won’t be there, not for the next two weeks.”

He felt his spirits lift up, and he tried to hide his excitement as they crawled through the portrait hole to the common room. “Oh, right.”

He thought of their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, of how Potter had snapped at their Professor. It’s not like Draco didn’t agree with what he said to her, but he couldn’t help but cringe at his outburst. Potter, our savior, just _has_ to be the hero in everything, doesn’t he?

But why did she bother him so much? He had heard rumors about what had happened at the end of the tri-wizard tournament. There were so many stories that he didn’t know what was true and what wasn’t. It wasn’t like he was going to ask Potter himself, as he would just shove him away. He did believe that You-Know-Who was back, but he didn’t know what else to believe.

He opened his mouth to ask Granger about it, but she was already saying goodnight and went up the stairs to her dormitory.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

He hadn’t felt this much excitement in such a long time.

He let the wind flow through his ungelled hair, through his fingertips, around his body.

He had woken up at five in the morning, unable to rest. His nerves for the tryouts were beyond compare, and he decided to try to ease them by flying laps around the pitch before anyone else awoke.

It was liberating.

He hadn’t flown since the summer. He almost never went flying while Hogwarts was in session, as he didn’t want to be seen by other students. He would rather keep his love for quidditch to himself. He would rather keep everything to himself, in fact, as he never wanted to be seen by anyone.

_Then why did he tell Granger that he could play Quidditch?_

He didn’t know why he had done a lot of things, lately. He didn’t know why he had blown up at the first-year who called Granger a mudblood. He didn’t know why he was so concerned with Potter’s bruises and scars. He didn’t know why he helped Granger, why he asked her for help, or why he was beginning to open up to her. He didn’t know why she continued to associate with him, but he didn’t mind. Maybe having a friend would be a nice change.

It wasn’t long before the sun rose, before the rest of the castle began to awake. He flew gracefully to the ground, dismantled his broom, and walked back to the castle, eager to get the day over with.

The rest of the day was a blur.

He couldn’t focus on any of his classwork. Even though he felt like he learned everything one could about arithmancy in one night, he was still lost in class. He couldn’t properly transfigure his toad into a chair. Even Snape made a snide comment about how his potion was merely sub-par. He couldn’t focus on anything. His entire mind was occupied by his fears about the quidditch tryouts later that evening.

Before he knew it, he was standing at the door to the quidditch pitch, broom in hand, about to try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

He took a deep breath and stepped onto the grass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy thursday everyone :)
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who has read this story! I appreciate all of your feedback so much, and I welcome even more! I hope you all have a fabulous weekend :)
> 
> See you all on Sunday!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this is a tad late, I was out of town over the weekend and AO3 was giving me some issues yesterday. I hope this makes up for it! There will still be a regular update on Thursday :) 
> 
> There's finally some interaction between Draco and Harry, and there will be much, much more coming up.
> 
> Enjoy!

He wanted to turn around and run far, far away from here.

As he walked onto the pitch, his heart was pounding in his ears. His palms were so sweaty that he could hardly hold onto his broomstick. He didn’t know how he was going to be able to fly it.

He walked over to the signup table. It was mad chaos, people were screaming frantically, pushing and shoving in a large crowd around the table. Angelina Johnson was waving her arms, a clipboard in one hand, trying to get the seemingly deaf first and second years in order.

“No, no a _line_ ! Please form a _line_ behind the table to sign up!” She eventually grew tired and resorted to screaming. “Get in a line _now!_ I _refuse_ to give this clipboard to anyone who is _not_ in a straight line, so if you’re not in a line, you will _not_ be allowed to try out!”

Even Draco was scared of her.

The line moved quicker than he had hoped. He hoped to stand in this line for hours, and somehow miss his chance at trying out. But soon he was at the front of the line, quill in hand, Angelina glaring at him.

_Name:_

Draco Malfoy. That was easy.

_House:_

Gryffindor. Really, was that a question? 

_Year:_

Fifth.

_Position (first and second choice):_

He hesitated. He _really_ wanted to be a seeker. He loved controlling the game, he wanted the thrill of chasing the snitch, the pressure for him to catch it, the roaring crowds admiring him when he won the game for his house. But he didn’t think that was really an option, as that position had already been filled. _But he’s not even here._ If it were anybody else, they would lose their spot. But no, this was _Harry Potter,_ so of course he got special treatment.

Except Draco couldn’t really argue. Potter was an amazing seeker, and with Draco out of practice, Potter was definitely the better of the two.

Well, he wasn’t going to be a keeper. He would rather die than sit in the same spot all game. He didn’t really want to be a beater, but he didn’t really want to be a chaser, either. At least with being a chaser, he would be able to score some points.

He sighed, scribbled “chaser” as his first choice and “beater” as his second, and grabbed a red shirt from Angelina and walked away. He stood awkwardly by the wall, looking around. A few younger students were flying through the air, warming up, but obviously just trying to show off. The older students, like Draco, were meandering around on the ground or standing off to the side. They also looked like they didn’t really want to be there, as they probably had tried out before and didn’t make it, or their friend had pressured them to tryout. He saw Weasley standing by himself nervously.

“Alright, everyone!” Angelina yelled, stepping into the center of the pitch. “Welcome to the 1995 Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts! We are really excited to see all of you here, and we are even more excited to see what you all have to offer! We’ll start off with some drills for the positions you’re trying out for, and later we’ll have some scrimmages going! We’ll start with everyone’s first choice, so beaters, go along and follow Fred and George, keepers will be with Katie, seekers will be with Alicia, and chasers will be with me! Good luck, and have fun!” 

She blew her whistle, and everyone swarmed to find their positions. Draco, along with everyone else wearing a red shirt, flew over to one set of goalposts. Looking back, he saw the keepers in green at the other. The beaters were in blue in the middle of the field. There was no one wearing yellow.

He scanned the crowd, his eyes landing on Granger. His heart jumped a little. _She really came to see him?_ But then he followed her eyes and she was watching Weasley. His brief happiness immediately came crashing down. She caught his glance and gave him an over-eager smile and two thumbs up. He smiled back, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It never did. Not in five years.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Drills had gone reasonably well. Draco was definitely the fastest out of all of those after the chaser position. He could dive better than anyone else, and he could pull off the greatest number of tricks, as well as the most complex ones. His aim was not the greatest, but it wasn’t the worst, either. He was sure it was from his lack of upper body strength, but that was something that just a few weeks of training could fix.

That being said, he was _horrible_ at the beater drills. He could always hit the ball with the bat, but it never went where he wanted it to go. He nearly took out one of the twins several times, which definitely made some of the teammates think he was there just to harm someone. But in all honesty, he was just quite terrible at being a beater.

It was time for the scrimmage. His team had black headbands, the other white. He didn’t know the names of anyone on his team, apart from Weasley as his keeper. That would make things interesting.

He made his way to the middle of the field. He locked eyes with the third year trying out for chaser on the white team, whom he was going up against in the face off. He mounted his broom, flew up into the air, and waited for the start. He was so nervous that he felt as if he were going to fall off his broom. If he couldn’t handle the pressure of playing in front of his house, how could he manage to play in front of the entire school?

The whistle blew.

His nerves were suddenly pushed to the back of his mind. He immediately grabbed the quaffle and sped off to the goalposts. He adrenaline pumped through his veins, the wind rushed through his hair, and the excitement spread throughout his body. 

He scanned his teammates, finding a fourth year open. He chucked the ball at them, but as soon as she caught it, a bludger was shot directly at her head. She dropped the ball.

He dove at top speed, being the first to do so. He got to the ball before anyone else was even close. The second he felt the leather touch his fingertips he pulled back up, causing two chasers from the other team to collide into each other below him.

He saw the bludger coming for him out of the corner of his eye, twisting his broomstick upside-down to dodge it. It missed the bristles of his broom by centimeters.

McLaggen was at the far left of the hoops, closest to him. He stared him directly in the eyes, positioning his body right at him, and threw the ball to the right-most hoop.

It went in.

He heard Granger screaming from the stands, as well as the applause from a few others. His teammates flew to him, congratulating him. His body filled with pride, a Malfoy smirk creeping onto his face.

It was the most alive he had felt in a long, long time.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“I mean, _sixteen_ goals, that’s amazing-“

“Not just amazing, that’s _unheard_ of!”

“Maybe McLaggen really just is that bad.”

“I’ve seen him play a thousand times before, I think Malfoy just really was that good.”

“And that Sloth Grip Roll to avoid that bludger? Iconic.”

“He sounds like a real ball-hog, if you ask me.”

“Oh, please. Did you see the rest of his team? They were just God-awful. I’m surprised Malfoy didn’t break his back carrying them.”

Malfoy smirked as he moved through the common room. Yes, people were talking about him, but for once, it wasn’t negative. The praise. The admiration. He _loved_ it. He sat in the armchair by the fireplace, opening his book. He soaked it all in. The words circulating through the common room warmed his body more than the fire did.

 _Was this his life now?_ Were people actually going to see him as something more than the disappointment who wallows through the halls? Were people going to actually see him as a Malfoy, as a man of respect, of a man to be admired and praised and feared?

“Where the hell is he.”

No, of course not.

He closed his book, standing up. “Does there seem to be a problem, Potter?”

Potter moved across the room as if he were flying instead of walking. His long legs floated his body quickly towards him, until he grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall. He put his face in Draco’s, their eyes staring into each other. His were wide with rage, his nose sneered, his mouth breathing heavily. Draco felt his stomach drop as he stared into Potter’s wild eyes.

“Who do you think you are?” Potter sneered.

The whispers and murmuring had stopped. There was a collective gasp when Draco was pushed up against the wall, but the common room was now in a shocked silence. He couldn’t see anything apart from Potter’s piercing eyes, but he was sure everyone was frozen in place.

Draco laughed. “Excuse me?”

“What do you think gives _you_ the right to try out for _my_ quidditch team?”

“ _Your_ Quidditch team?” He laughed again, trying to ignore the growing pit in his stomach. “Last time I checked Angelina Johnson was the captain, you are just the seeker who steps to the side and watches for 90% of the game.”

The murmurs started back up again.

“T-that is _not_ true!” He stuttered as he shouted, pressing him further against the wall. Draco’s breathing hitched when Potter’s body was pressed up against his, a knot forming in his chest when they collided. He was so close that he could feel his heavy breaths, his heart pounding against his own. It took everything in him to not let his composure fall.

“Are you sure? Do you need me to remind you who was not present at tryouts today?”

“Stop it-”

He scoffed. “Scared, Potter? Scared I am going to take your spot? That I am going to outshine the _great Harry Potter,_ youngest seeker in a decade? Just because you got your spot first year does not mean you get to keep it.”

“What? I- Don’t you dare talk to me like that!” 

“I have heard you say it yourself! Just because you had a spot last year does not mean you get to keep it.”

He pushed against him a little harder. “And _you_ think you can replace me? You think _you_ could be better than _me?_ ”

“Oh, you have no idea! You weren’t even there. Do you know how many people tried out for your spot? How many people would _die_ to take your place? And you did not even have the nerve to show up!” 

He continued, knowing that it would just frustrate him. “Oh, there had to be _at least_ twenty seekers there! And, in my humble opinion, they were all _fantastic._ I have _never_ seen someone pull off a Wronski Feint as well as Peter Eldin! You should have _seen_ Julian Clark’s Plumton Pass. Let me tell you, I was in _shock_ at the _talent_ that this house has! As soon as the house got wind of your detention, it was like everyone knew they had the opportunity to finally show the world how better they are than you, not just at Quidditch, but in everything, quite frankly-”

Draco was cut off by a fist colliding with his nose.

He blinked in shock, putting his fingers up to his nose, and felt nauseous when he pulled them away to see them covered in blood.

His eyes burned with rage. “How _dare_ you.” He pulled his fist back as far as he could while still being pinned up against the wall, but Potter was pulled off of him by Weasley before he could get his hit in.

“He’s not worth it, mate.” They sent him a nasty glare, as if _he_ were the one who threw the punch, and walked off to their dormitory.

Granger rushed up to him. “Oh, Draco, I’m sure your nose is broken!” She cried, touching his nose, causing him to wince. “Here, let me walk you to the hospital wing.”

Normally he would shove her aside and go himself, but he liked the attention he was getting. First, everyone was talking about how he absolutely _killed_ tryouts. Then, he was able to infuriate Potter enough for him to throw a punch. Not even a hex or a jinx, but a barbaric, non-magical hit. Now, he had someone rushing to his aid when he was hurt. Even more so, she had called him _Draco._ She had to have been the first person in the castle to do so. He tried his best not to smile.

It had been a great day for Draco Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who has read this! I did NOT expect so many people to read this so quickly! I love all of you so much <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday everyone! I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

The first weekend of the term was always the greatest.

It was still warm outside. Although it was September, it still was not yet fall, and the sun was still shining bright and warm. Classes hadn't  _ really  _ started yet, so there was still plenty of free time to mill around. 

Draco decided to spend the day outside, like the majority of his classmates. He, however, was still pouring over his notes and books. He knew he wasn’t the only one who was planning on doing so.

“Hey, mind if I sit with you?”

He glanced up to see Granger standing above him, arms full of books. 

He smiled and moved to the corner of the blanket he laid out. “Of course.”

She smiled back shyly, sitting down next to him. “How’s your nose?”

“Oh, it is as good as new. See?” He shoved a finger up his nose.

She chuckled as she opened up one of her books. “That is absolutely disgusting.”

“What, you expected a Malfoy to have some manners? How  _ dare  _ you.” He scoffed sarcastically. She seemed uncomfortable, as if she didn’t know it was a joke or not. He let out a reassuring chuckle. “Thank you, though. For making sure I was okay last night.”

Not only had she walked him to the infirmary, but she stayed with him until his nose was fixed, walked back to the common room, and stayed up with him to talk. He pretended he wasn’t at all hurt about Potter’s outburst, but it did sting somewhere inside. And she knew that.

“Well, that’s what friends are for, aren’t they?” His mouth dropped.

“F-frie-” He cut himself off, not wanting to embarrass himself, but it was too late.

“I mean, I know it’s only four days into the term. But we have spent every night together, have we not?” He nodded in response. “I know you’re not used to that, but I hope we can be friends. If not now, then eventually. It’s okay if you’re not up to it yet.”

He blinked, not knowing what to say. “I-  _ you  _ want to be friends with  _ me _ ?” She nodded. “You- are you not afraid that I will blow up at you? Call you a  _ you-know-what, _ curse you, hex you, sabotage your grades? Ruin your life?”

She shrugged. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Besides, I don’t think you would actually do any of that stuff.”

He was absolutely shocked. She was just so, so  _ calm.  _ Most people would make fun of him, yell at him, sure. But they would always tuck their tail between their legs and run away the second he shot them a nasty glare, as if he would unleash a full army of Death Eaters upon them. Nobody  _ dared _ to get close to Draco Malfoy.

“Why?”

She shut her book, leaning back so that the sun shone on her face. She looked like she was in deep thought. “I can see that you’re different. Different from who you were before, different from who others think you are.”

She looked at him, expecting a response, but got nothing but shocked silence in return. “I don’t think you’re as cold as everyone thinks you are. I think you’re just lonely. And sad. And that you torture yourself over that. I’m scared you have no one to talk to, no one to turn to. I think that you could use a friend in your life. Even if we’re nothing more than study partners, I hope that the presence of someone else in your life will make you feel a little less lonely.”

He thought back to what Snape told him earlier in the week.  _ But I do have people I talk to, people I trust. People I can go out with and enjoy my time. Just because you live an unfortunate life does not mean you must torture yourself. _

He still couldn’t comprehend why she would  _ want  _ to befriend him. 

“But, why you? Why now? Why not two years ago, why not next year?”

“I was still scared of you at the beginning of the year. I was terrified to be prefect alongside you, I was sure that you were going to make my life a living hell. But the second you stood up to that first year, I knew that something inside you had shifted. That’s really why I asked you for help, to see if you would turn me away like you did when I asked you for help first year. But you didn’t. I decided to try to push my way closer and closer. You showed up for quidditch tryouts. You let me take you to the hospital wing. You didn’t throw a fit when I called you Draco instead of Malfoy. You’ve changed. Anyone with half a brain could see that.”

She was right. “But, why do  _ you _ want to be  _ my  _ friend?”

She sighed. “Honestly, I need a break. Ron and Harry are just, just too much sometimes. I don’t really want to talk about it. But I just needed a break, someone else to talk to, and you happened to be there.”

“Fair,” he nodded. He didn’t know what to say in return. He still wasn’t convinced, but that was his self-esteem talking. Or was that his brain rejecting a possibility of a friend? Maybe he couldn’t, wouldn’t believe that anyone wanted to be his friend. He didn’t know if that was because he was so used to getting by without one or if he was afraid of what would happen if he let someone in too close. 

The last time he let someone in close, he had blamed them for getting sorted into Gryffindor, ensuing four years of living hell to follow.

“And, I don’t know. I do enjoy the time we spend together, even if it is purely focused on academics. I think you and I would get along well outside of studying, as well. As great as my friends are, they can be bloody  _ idiots  _ sometimes. It would be nice to talk to someone with an ounce of intellect for once.”

He chuckled. “Well, you have come to the right place.”

Okay, so she wanted to be friends with him. But did he want to be friends with her? He still didn’t know. He couldn’t separate the want and need in his head. Logically, he  _ needed  _ a friend. Both Snape and Granger were right about that. But did he really  _ want  _ a friend? And did he really want it to be  _ her,  _ of all people?

“I could ask you the same questions.” She said.

“Y-you, what?”

“This isn’t a one way street, you know. I’ve been friendly to you, but you’ve been friendly to me, as well. Again, you have not once complained about our interactions. And just now, when I came over to sit with you, your face lit up like you were happy to see me. Why?”

Maybe he did want to be her friend. “I don’t know. I’ve never really had someone  _ want  _ to be friends with me before. I do not hate the time I spend with you, I just, I don’t know how I feel about anything, really.”

“That’s okay.”

They sat in silence for a while, each of them reading their books. There was an uncertain tension in the air. He kept thinking about what she had said. Everything she said about him was true, in a very frightening way. It was like she was a mind reader. Maybe she was, and that’s why she was able to get so close to him so quickly. But he also kept thinking back to what she said about Potter.

“Can I just ask you something?” He blurted out, and she nodded. “I mean, what is up with Potter? It just seems so out of character for him to just punch someone in the face. Does he really hate me that much?”

She sighed. “I mean, you did bully him for the entirety of first year.”

He had forgotten about that. “Right-”

“And he’s had a rough few months, you know? I mean, he saw You-Know-Who return, and no one believes him. For Christ’s sake, he saw him  _ murder  _ someone! Witnessing that can really mess a person up. And then he was locked up with muggles all summer, just to get attacked by dementors. And to come back to Hogwarts, with all the rumors and no one believing him, it’s just really put a lot on him. Quidditch is the one thing in his life that’s stable. First, Umbridge took it away from him for the next two weeks, and then you show up reminding him about it and telling him it’s going to be gone forever. How would that make you feel?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him. “And what you did wasn’t okay! There’s a fine line between defending yourself and egging him on! You knew exactly what you were doing, everyone could tell that. What was the purpose in that? To make him feel bad about himself? He was  _ killing  _ himself about missing tryouts, and it wasn’t even his fault! It was all because Professor Umbridge was punishing him for telling the truth and speaking up for us! But you just  _ had  _ to rub it in, didn’t you? You just  _ had  _ to egg him on. No one is surprised that he punched you.”

That stung, but she was right. He was being an idiot. 

“I’m sorry, that was a little harsh-”

“No, no.” He cut her off. “ _ I  _ am sorry, I should not have said those things.”

“You should really tell him that.” She sighed. “It’s not like you’re the nicest to him either. You obviously have some strong feelings for him-”

“ButI would never just punch him in the face like that!” He shouted. “Sorry. I mean, yeah, I bullied him first year once or twice-”

“Once or twice?” She gasped. “I don’t think you realized how much you hurt him. You were his first wizarding friend, one of the first glimpses he had at the magical world, and then you just simply threw it all away, ignoring him but then eventually just  _ tormenting  _ him every chance you got!”

“But I got over it!” He defended. “In case it has escaped your notice, I have hardly said a word to him since that year.”

“But you still hated him.” She said. “And he knows that.”

He sighed, trying to calm himself down. “I do not, I mean, I  _ did,  _ sort of. It was not the same sort of hate that I held towards my family, towards my parents. I mean, first year, it was. But after the summer I had realized that it was silly of me to blame  _ him  _ for what the Sorting Hat did. He had no part in it. I stopped hating him, but I grew sick of him real fast. It was always Harry Potter this and Harry Potter that, you know?”

She sighed. “It’s not like he has the easiest life-”

“He makes it hard for himself!  _ He  _ was the one who decided to go after the stone first year.  _ He  _ was the one who decided to find out what was going on in the chamber. He could have just laid back like the rest of us, listened to Dumbledore, and then he would not find himself in such a mess sometimes. Why does he have to get involved in  _ everything _ ?”

“It’s not all his fault,” she argued, raising her voice in defense over his friend. “He didn’t  _ choose  _ to have his name put in the Goblet of Fire. He didn’t  _ choose  _ to have You-Know-Who murder his parents! He didn’t  _ choose  _ to have him murder his classmate right in front of his eyes!”

People were staring at them. 

They sat in awkward silence, waiting for people to stop listening in on their conversation. It was private, it was intimate. Draco didn’t know why he was opening up to Granger so much, and he didn’t really know why she was opening up to him, either. He just knew that neither of them wanted other people to listen to them. Eventually, the chatter around them started back up again.

“I- I am sorry. I do not mean to sit here and pick on your friend. I really do not want to argue with you, either. I just really do not know what is true and what isn’t. Everyone is just always talking about him, which is annoying, but they say so many things about him. I am not sure what to believe.” He leaned forward. “But You-Know-Who really is back, isn’t he?”

She nodded, sighing. “And Harry saw his return. He saw him murder Cedric Diggory in cold blood. And everyone refuses to acknowledge the truth.”

His heart hurt. He had spent the whole summer wallowing in self-despair that he hadn’t even thought of what Potter had to have been going through. He thought that he had it rough. But there were people out there far worse off than him. It made him feel even worse about himself, in a way. That he was this upset with his life when it really wasn’t all that bad. But at the same time, he felt some sort of pity for Potter. But he wasn’t sure if he really felt bad for him, or if he just felt bad for Granger for having this happen to her friend.

“You, you say he was  _ locked  _ up all summer?” He questioned sincerely. What did she mean by that?

“He spends the summers with his muggle Aunt and Uncle. They don’t really like him for being a wizard.” She seemed like she didn’t really want to say much more, but he still pressed on.

“When he came back this year, he had these, these  _ bruises _ on his neck. He comes back with them every year. On his arms, his face. His Aunt and Uncle, do they, you know,” he trailed off, not wanting to say the words out loud.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s really in my place to talk about that kind of stuff.” She sighed. “Harry would be really upset if he saw me talking with you in the first place, you know? I- I’ve already said too much about him.”

She collected her books, beginning to stand up. “I really should go.”

“Wait,” he grabbed her arm, stopping her from standing up. She looked at him, almost in fear, which made him upset.  _ Did she think he was going to hurt her?  _

He outstretched his hand. “Friends?”

She smiled and grabbed his hand, shaking it firmly. “Does this mean you’ll finally call me Hermione instead of Granger?”

He smiled in return. “Only if you agree to call me Draco.”

She stayed. He was glad that he had stopped her, as it seemed that she only got up because he made her uncomfortable. They had slowly but surely eased into comfortable conversation breaks between their studying. Every now and then, one of them would read something interesting, and they would spend the next thirty minutes talking about it. She was right, they did get along well. She was a brilliant witch, and it was nice to have an intellectual conversation with her.

He felt warmth spread from his body. Not just from the sun, but from having a friend.  _ A friend.  _ He kept repeating the word over and over in his head until it didn’t sound like a real word anymore.  _ A friend.  _ And he had one.

He fought back tears, hiding his face in his book.

Before they knew it, the sun was setting and it was almost time for dinner. They packed up their books. “Well, I think I finally understand Arithmancy now.”

She smiled. “I’m glad I could help.”

They began walking back to the castle, about to head to dinner in the Great Hall.  _ Would she sit with him? Or would she sit with Potter and Weasley?  _ If she did sit next to her friends, was he allowed to sit with her? Or would that be weird? He didn’t want Grang- Hermione’s friends to dislike her for sitting with him.

Thankfully, that decision didn’t have to be made quite yet.

A few second years darted in front of them. “Hey, no running in the halls!” She had called out to them in her prefect voice.

“But, Thomas just said they posted the Gryffindor quidditch list in the common room!”

They looked at eachother, their eyes widening. “Well, I think that is a perfectly good reason to be sprinting through the castle.”

The five of them took off, Hermione grabbing Draco’s hand and nearly dragging his body before he could protest. Before long, they were in the common room, fighting through the crowd to see the final list. He kept standing on his toes, trying to catch a glimpse of the list. He was able to catch a few names, but he never saw his. He began to grow disappointed. People in front of him slowly moved out of the way, some sulking, some bright with excitement. Finally, he was able to get a good look at the list.

**_Gryffindor Quidditch Team, 1995-96_ **

**_Reserves:_ **

_ Katie Bell _

_ Cormac McLaggen _

_ Dean Thomas _

_ Ginevra Weasley _

**_Seeker:_ **

_ Harry Potter _

**_Keeper:_ **

_ Ronald Weasley _

**_Beaters:_ **

_ Fred Weasley _

_ George Wesasley _

**_Chasers:_ **

_ Angelina Johnson _

_ Alicia Spinnet _

_ Draco Malfoy _

There he was. At the very bottom of the list. A Chaser. A starter.

He was shocked.

A smirk began to grow on his face.

He emerged from the crowd of people. As soon as he did so, Hermione attacked him in a hug.

“Congratulations! I’m so glad you tried out, I knew you could do it! Oh, I’m so happy for you!”

He pulled away, his smile growing. He hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. “I could not have done it without you. Thank you for pressuring me.” He chuckled.

“I didn’t pressure you. I merely suggested it, you made the decision on your own.”

And she was right.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the mini hiatus there! The end of the semester was really rough for me, and I just didn't have the time or the mental capacity to work on this. But I'm back! This chapter is a bit longer than my usual, and I'm really proud of it, so I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Earlier I updated twice a week, but I think from here on out it'll just be once a week. I'm planning on updating every Sunday (today is Friday, I just couldn't wait to post this! I might update this Sunday as well, but can't promise anything. Next Sunday will definitely be a new chapter though!), so keep your eyes peeled on the weekends!
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Draco really enjoyed his routine. He did not like it when things changed, he did not like it when someone disrupted his routine.

But in the past week, he had begun to develop a new routine, and surprisingly, he really quite liked it.

His mornings were still very much the same. He would wake up before any of the other boys in the room so that he could have all of the hot water and the bathroom to himself. He would first shower, then change into his bathrobe and slippers. He would brush his teeth with a muggle toothbrush and toothpaste. He found that it left his mouth with a much more pleasant feeling than a simple spell, and the action was peaceful and let his mind wander. He had only recently adapted shaving into his routine in the past year, and he wished to do it the muggle way, but he wasn’t very well practiced so he would nick himself every time and wouldn’t get a clean shave. So he normally used a spell, but if he was awake early enough he would attempt to use a razor.

His hair, however, had to be magically styled. He found that no muggle product was advanced enough nor stylish enough to be of decent quality to him. He would dry it and slick it back, and every few days he would charm his roots to be a more platinum blonde rather than his usual dirty blonde. He would then change into his school robes, and at this point, the other boys would begin to stir and get ready for the day, heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Draco, however, would skip breakfast and instead head to the library. He liked to get in a bit of light reading before class to warm up his mind before the day really began. Today he happened to be reading a muggle book, something he had never done before, but Hermione had recommended it. It was called _Pride and Prejudice,_ written by someone named Jane Austin, and he actually quite enjoyed it.

Today was Friday, which meant he began the day with Double Potions followed by Care for Magical Creatures, then lunch.

Draco used to eat lunch alone, but he now ate with Hermione. Potter and Weasley had a different lunch time than the two of them, as they were in Divination and then ate while Draco and Hermione had lunch then Arithmancy. Draco quite liked this, as he didn’t want to be fourth-wheeling the ever so perfect golden trio. 

He also didn’t want to admit it, but especially ever since Potter had punched him in the nose, he was scared of him. He was especially afraid to be alone in the same room as him. It usually wasn’t a problem, since he and Weasley were usually attached at the hip, but it still occasionally happened. In the dorm, in the common room, in the locker room. There was a very strong tension between the two of them, and when they were alone it was amplified to no end. The air was thick and it was hard for him to breathe, and whenever they made eye contact he would usually run out of the room before anything happened.

But he didn’t have to worry about that for most of the day, as he spent a good portion of it with Hermione. In fact, the two of them had almost exactly the same class schedule, so they usually partnered together and walked through the halls together.

It was weird for Draco. He would always walk through the halls alone, hugging the walls, paying great attention to everyone around him. He had to make sure someone wasn’t about to run into him on purpose or jump out at him with a jinx. But he found that when he walked with Hermione, it was just the two of them, and the other students seemed to disappear. They would talk about what they had just learned, or what they were expecting in their next class. Today, as they walked to the Great Hall, they complained about how much writing Snape had assigned over the weekend. 

They always sat at the same spot in the middle of the Gryffindor table, and sometimes Longbottom would talk to them. Or rather, he would talk to Hermione while Draco pretended he wasn’t there as he picked the crust off his tomato sandwich, but he didn’t mind. He loved eating with someone. The last time he had done so, was, well, never actually. His first feast at Hogwarts, he distanced himself from his house, running away when someone tried to speak to him. Actually talking while consuming food was something foreign to him.

He didn’t want things to change too much, though. He liked taking things one step at a time, slowly adapting his normal routine. He couldn’t just jump into a new one, that was impossible. Having one friend was fantastic, but it was almost too much for Draco. To have someone know everything about you, to spend time with you, made him the slightest bit uncomfortable. It made him vulnerable. He could not imagine opening up to more than one person. At least not at once. He was fine with Longbottom joining their group on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays because he really only ever talked to Hermione, it wasn’t like Draco was getting close to him as well.

After their afternoon classes, which on Fridays consisted of Divination, Transfiguration, and Charms, Draco would start his homework in Snape’s office while he graded some papers.

“Perhaps I am mistaken, but I couldn’t help but notice that you have made a friend this week.” 

Draco put down his quill and smirked. “I mean, sort of. We mostly just work together for school, but she is nice to be around too.”

He raised an eyebrow in return. “So it’s true? The great Draco Malfoy has finally made a friend?”

His smirk grew into a smile. “Yeah, yeah I guess I have.” He felt a weird warm feeling in his chest as he said it. It didn’t bother him as much as it thought.

“I’m glad you’re at least mingling with intelligent people,” he said. “Even if she can be a know it all at times. I’m surprised that it doesn't bother you.”

He simply shrugged. “She’s just more vocal than I am-”

“That’s quite the understatement.” Snape sneered.

Draco sighed. He knew he couldn’t speak with his godfather for more than five minutes without one of them spouting insults at the other, which is why they usually sat in silence. “I should get going to dinner.”

He packed up his things and made his way to the Great Hall. He was one of the last to arrive for dinner, but his normal spot at the end of the Gryffindor table was still open, as usual. He pulled out a textbook to read from while he ate, to make things a little less awkward and a little less sad. As usual.

So he sat by himself, reading his Ancient Runes book for the third time as he pushed mashed potatoes around his plate. But just because he wasn’t sitting with Hermione, didn’t mean he wasn’t listening to what they were saying.

“So, Hermione, we’ve been noticing you’ve been hanging out with… with _Malfoy,_ lately.” Weasley said, his voice dripping with disgust as Draco’s name left his mouth. 

She wiped her mouth with her napkin, nodding. “Yeah, actually. We’ve gotten to know each other quite well over the past week.”

“Why? What’s the matter with you?” Potter nearly interrupted her, and Draco couldn’t help but roll his eyes. It was mostly for dramatic effect in case they looked over, so that they knew he was listening. But he didn’t want them to see how Potter’s comment actually panged his chest. Of course there had to be something _wrong_ with Hermione for wanting to be friends with Draco. Why would a sane person even _talk_ to him?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She defended.

The redhead coughed as he shared a nervous glance with Potter. “Well, people have been noticing it. They’re starting to, you know, _talk_ about you two.”

“Why would I care about that?” Draco’s heart skipped a beat. _She didn’t care what her friends thought about their friendship._

Potter raised his voice. “Do you not care what other people are saying? People are noticing that you’re spending more time with him than you are with us!”

She shrugged. “No, I really do not care.”

“You don’t,” Weasley trailed off, “you don’t _fancy_ him, do you?”

“Oh, _Merlin,_ no!" She seemed shocked that he would suggest that. Draco was relieved, but also slightly hurt. “Besides, our relationship is purely academic.”

_Purely academic._

He slammed his book shut and ran out of the Great Hall before he could hear another word.

He didn’t look behind him to see if she noticed his abrupt departure. He didn’t open his ears to listen to any more remarks from Potter or Weasley. He didn’t want to know.

_Purely academic._

Of course she didn’t want to be friends with him. Why would she? She only approached him that second night in the castle for help with her potions homework, anyway. 

His legs carried him without thinking, briskly moving towards the Gryffindor common room. He kept his head down, the same way he was used to all these years, unapologetically pushing past anyone who got in his way.

 _But she said she wanted to be your friend!_ But she even said that she only wanted to be friends with him because Potter and Weasley were too much. But now the three of them were getting along just fine again, so why did she need him?

The portrait door slammed shut behind him. He stormed immediately to his room, thankful to find it empty. Without even taking his shoes off, he threw himself onto his bed, drawing the curtains shut and casting a silencing charm around himself.

_You are an idiot for letting this happen. Why are you surprised that this happened? You knew it would happen. This is your fault._

He curled himself into a ball, feeling his face grow wet. A piercing feeling shot through his heart, spreading to his chest, which just made it hurt even worse when the eventual sob escaped his lips and shook his body.

There was a reason he didn’t have friends for the past four years. He was afraid to let anyone in. He knew that if he did, it would leave him weak and vulnerable, and they would leave him the same way his parents did.

And that was exactly what Hermione had done to him.

She didn’t want him. She didn’t need him.

Nobody needed Draco Malfoy.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The weekend had come and gone, and Draco had not left his dormitory once.

The week had come and gone, and Draco had successfully avoided Hermione at every cost.

He made sure to always show up late to class at every second so that he was able to take a seat without Hermione moving closer to him. In potions he sat with Longbottom, in Arithmancy he sat with Thomas. He ate lunch by himself in the library and ate dinner in his dorm.

He found that if he sat in the dorm for too long, Potter and Weasley would send him dirty looks. He instead would spend his time in Snape’s office when he could, or would otherwise hide in the Room of Requirement. Hermione would never dare to go down to the dungeons, and to his knowledge, he was the only student in the school who had known about the hidden room.

It was pathetic, really. It had only been two weeks at school and he had already let someone too close to him. Now, one week later, everything was back to normal but so very different. He could no longer just hide in plain sight. He used to be able to move through the halls with nothing more than a few rotten glances and a push or a hex every here and there, but now he had to dodge through the crowd praying to not be seen.

Quidditch practice was a relief.

 _Why hadn’t Draco joined the team earlier?_ He didn’t realize how much he really loved flying. The way the wind rustled through and messed up his hair was exhilarating. The ground was a hundred feet below him, and the thought of plummeting promptly to his death made him feel oddly better. It pumped adrenaline into his veins and made him realize that some things were just too insignificant to be bothered with. He could leave all his troubles and worries on the ground, he could leave his problems in the castle, on the ground, and distance himself from them by being up in the air.

He was worried about the other members of Gryffindor, which proved to be stupid. Back in the common room, they might whisper behind his back or send him looks, but out here on the pitch, they were only concerned about Quidditch, about making their team the best they can be so that they can beat Slytherin in November. It seemed too far away to be bothered, as it was almost a month and a half until the match, but they needed all the time they could get. They were rusty from not practicing together over the summer. They still had to adapt the new members to fit their team dynamic. Plus, with schoolwork only piling up more and more, they would get fewer and fewer practices in as the school year went on.

But the practice was over before he knew it, and they were all crammed in the locker room, everyone joking and pushing each other around. Well, everyone except Draco, of course. He kept to himself in the corner, taking the care to neatly fold his practice robes before he put them in his bag.

The locker room banter had subsided, and with a quick glance around, Draco had realized he was the only one left in the room. He decided to take his time packing up the remainder of his things, trying to bask in the peaceful silence while he still could. Fridays were always too loud in the common room, and he would probably spend the rest of his night in the room of requirement, or perhaps the library if it wasn’t too busy.

“Why are you still here?”

Potter’s voice made him nearly jump out of his skin. He had dropped his quidditch shoes and scrambled to pick them up and shove them in his bag. “I- I just, uh- I did not realize anyone was still here-”

He finally turned around to face him. His hair was still dripping wet, making the collar of his shirt damp, which irked Draco. His hair was unruly, and he just wanted to reach out and comb his fingers through it just to fix it. He realized that he had been staring, probably for too long, and coughed and continued shoving his clothes in his bag in an attempt to get out of there as soon as possible. There was that thick air again. That tension. He did _not_ need, nor want, a repeat of their prior incident. He needed to get out of here.

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s no wonder you weren’t sorted into Ravenclaw, really. Could you not hear the shower?”

“What do you want, Potter.” He stood up taller and crossed his arms. “Or can I just finish packing my bag in peace?”

He scoffed and moved closer to Draco. “Yeah, that’s what you want, peace.”

“What are you talking about-”

“Don’t play stupid with me, Malfoy!” He shoved him into the locker. Draco wanted to back up further but he was trapped in the corner. This was all too similar as when Potter had punched him in the nose, and he was not happy about it. No one would believe him if it happened again. It would be a matter of Draco’s words against Potter’s, and who would they believe? 

He took a step closer, pressing his body against his just as he had done in the common room.

If Draco wasn’t staring before, he _definitely_ was now. He couldn’t help but notice that he had gotten a lot taller. Not only that, but he was honestly _ripped,_ and he could clearly see that in the way his arms bulged out from his shirt that was just a little bit too tight. 

Potter had gotten _hot_ over the summer. He couldn’t deny it. 

He couldn’t help but notice how close they were. His heart was pounding, and he was sure that Potter could feel it. He could definitely feel how warm his torso was, how he was breathing down his neck, one arm pinned on the locker beside his head. His lips were _so_ close to his, and he could _not_ stop staring. He knew it was wrong, he knew he should move, but he was frozen in terror and his brain wasn’t working.

Potter banged his arm on the side of his head, causing him to jump out of his trance as the lockers ricocheted against his back. “You know exactly what I am talking about!”

Draco tried to shove him off. “I do not know what your problem is, can you just let me-”

“You know exactly what I am talking about-”

“No, I really do not!” Draco yelled, actually pushing him off this time. Potter nearly tripped over the bench behind him, and Draco moved closer so that he could point his finger in his face “What the bloody hell is your problem with me?”

“What the bloody hell- Malfoy, you’re such an _idiot_ sometimes!” He shouted back. “First of all, you keep _humiliating_ me in front of my own house-”

“It is not _your_ house.” He scoffed.

“Well it certainly isn’t yours!” Draco wanted to defend himself, but he didn’t know what to say. Last year, that comment wouldn't have really hurt, but now it made his chest ache just a little bit. “Then, you just _have_ to come in and one up me in quidditch, because you’re just so much better than everyone else at everything, huh? You can’t just take your academics and go with that, no! You can’t just let people have their own things, can you?”

“It is not my fault that I’m better than you-”

“Oh, shove it, Malfoy!” Now Potter was the one sticking a finger in his face. “But that’s fine, that’s expected of you. But then _worst_ of all, you just had to go and hurt my friend! What was the point in that, huh? You slimy, arrogant, cocky bastard-”

 _Hurt his friend?_ “What are you-”

Potter stepped forward and grabbed his tie, pulling him into his face so that he could lower his voice. “Do all you want to me, I don’t give a shit. But when you hurt my friends, then it’s personal.”

He let go and started walking away, but Draco chased after him. “Wait, Potter, I _really_ do not know what you are talking about-”

“What is your angle, Malfoy?” He whipped around. “Were you trying to fuck with me, or send a message or what? Why would you get so close with my best friend just to hurt her?”

 _Her._ Right. Hermione. 

“She was the one who said-”

“I saw your storm off in the Great Hall. _Purely academic,_ right? If you had stuck around to eavesdrop a little longer, you would hear her say that’s how it started out. That she was surprised that it had gone any further, but that she was really happy about it! She _really_ wanted to be your friend, and then you just stomped all over her!”

He felt his heart sink. He felt something he had never felt before, guilt, and he didn’t like it at all.“Oh, I- I did not really know she felt that way.”

“You didn’t even try to know! She’s been trying to talk to you for a _week,_ and I have never seen someone try so hard to avoid someone else! Did you know she was up all night crying in the common room last night? She was working on a potions essay and said she was going to ask you for help. But, oh wait! You’ve basically shunned her! And then Ron and I had to sit there trying to put her back together!”

“I- I am so sorry-”

“Save it, Malfoy. I’m not the one who needs to hear it.”

Maybe someone really did need him, after all, and the guilt that he felt was far worse than anything he had ever felt before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I tried a kinda different writing style in the beginning and tried to pack it with as much detail as possible. Did you like it? Did you hate it? This chapter was also a bit longer than usual, do you prefer them longer or shorter? Please let me know! I love all kinds of feedback!
> 
> See you all on Sunday <3


	8. Chapter 8

Draco hung his head, both in shame and to protect his face from the pouring rain, as he walked from the locker rooms to the castle. 

He wanted to run after Potter, to beg him to take him back to Hermione and plea for her forgiveness. But he had run out of the room before he could even begin to think about what he would say. He felt a stabbing at his heart as Potter spoke, and even though he wasn’t the one abandoned by a friend, he sounded like he was. He heard the pain dripping with every word he snarled through his teeth. 

Draco knew he was wrong. He knew he had overreacted. He had let his feelings get the best of him, something he always took pride in never happening. But in the past two weeks, everything had changed. His emotions were all over the place. Heck, he didn’t even  _ know  _ what his emotions were at any given time. 

All he knew is that he had to get back to the common room and apologize to Hermione before Potter got back. If he told her about their altercation in the locker room, then he was afraid Hermione would think that he was only apologizing because Potter had yelled at him, that he only realized he had been in the wrong when someone else had yelled in his face about it. And while it was true, he didn’t want Hermione to think that. He wanted Hermione to think that he truly was sorry, that he truly wanted to be her friend again.

And it was true. He missed his friend.

He quickened his pace. His heart was still beating twice for every step that he took. The rain was coming down harder and harder, and he was soaked to the bone. He clenched his wand in his back pocket and cast a quick warming charm to prevent himself from freezing in the rain. Once inside the castle, he cast a drying charm as well. Sighing, he noticed that his leather shows had wrinkled in the process. He’d have to deal with that later. 

He hadn’t bumped into anyone on his way back, which wasn’t all too surprising given that it was less than an hour before curfew. His dwindling in the locker room and argument had taken up a lot more time than he had thought. He was glad that he had no one to interrupt his thoughts as he rehearsed over and over again what he would say to her.  _ I am sorry.  _ No, no he couldn’t start out with that.  _ I am an idiot.  _ Well, yeah, she knew that already, you idiot.  _ Can we just put this behind us and be friends?  _ He wanted to do that so badly. But he knew it wasn’t a good idea. If he just put it behind him, he wouldn’t learn from his mistake, and knowing that, she would be too wary around him to be friends the way they were before.

_ Idiot, Idiot! You are such a sodding idiot, Draco Fucking Malfoy.  _ He wanted to ball his fists and slam them into a wall until they bled. His guilt was slowly dwindling as it was replaced with the rage he felt at himself.  _ You had  _ one  _ good thing going for you, for once, and you threw it all away and fucked it up the second you got! How so very in character of you.  _

His feet took him to the portrait sooner than he wanted. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting his chest fill with air, forcing the anger out of his system. He needed to be calm for this.

As soon as he opened his mouth, the portrait door had swung open.

He was staring eye to eye with her.

“Hermione.” he choked out, her name getting tangled in his throat.

She shoved past him, making sure to nudge him with the stack of books in her arm. She was probably heading to the library to return them before the weekend. His heart dropped when she swiftly moved away from him, and he took off after her.

“Hermione, wait,” he called, his voice loud yet soft, but she pretended not to hear him. He broke into a light jog and put himself in front of her. She stopped in her tracks. “Hermione, I just want to-

“I am sorry Malfoy, but it really is late and I have to return these books.” She cut him off.  _ Malfoy.  _ That stung. She began walking again, trying to bump past him, but he stepped in her way and stopped her again.

“Can we please talk-”

“I really do not want to talk to you right now.” She interrupted again, refusing to make eye contact with him.

She was probably just tired. She didn’t want to talk to him  _ right now,  _ but that didn’t necessarily mean that she was cutting him off forever. “Fine! That is okay, I get it! Can we talk tomorrow-”

“I really don’t want to talk to you for a while.” Well, maybe he was wrong.

“But-”

“Goodnight,  _ Malfoy. _ ”

She pushed past him again, and this time he let her. He let her stand there, alone in the cold, empty corridor.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It seemed as though the tables between him and Hermione had turned.

She was doing a better job of avoiding him than he had done avoiding her. When he was avoiding her, he had still seen her everywhere. Coming around a corner in the hallways. Walking to the bathrooms in Gryffindor Tower. Sitting at a table in the library. Lounging in the armchair by the fireplace. But now that she was avoiding him, she was nowhere to be found. He had not seen her for the entire weekend. 

Without her, he realized that he had no one. He was completely alone. It was just him and his bloody cat against the world.

She wouldn’t even sit next to him in Potions. Their seats really didn’t matter, as Snape would assign them partners anyway, but he missed talking to her before class really started. He was both dreading and hoping for Snape to put them together, but he didn’t.

“Potter and Finnigan. Granger and Weasley. And finally, Malfoy and Longbottom.”

He sighed, grabbing his books and slamming them on Longbottom’s bench a little harsher than he had planned to. “Sorry,” he mumbled, especially after seeing how scared he had looked.

They were brewing a Wit-Sharpening potion. It was definitely an OWL level potion but wasn’t nearly as difficult as the Strengthening Solution they had brewed the previous week.

The two of them worked well together. He would mostly stay out of Draco’s way and let him make revisions to the recipe without too much complaint or questioning, but his lack of confidence did irk Draco just a little bit.

Their brewing was going along swimmingly, and soon they only had one step left.

_ “Add more Ginger Root until the potion is dark orange.”  _ Draco read, and handed the bowl of Ginger Root to Neville.

“You want me to do it?” He seemed shocked, and Draco simply raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“No offense, Longbottom, but it would be nice if you did  _ something. _ ” It came out a little harsher than he had hoped for.

Neville took, no,  _ grabbed _ the bowl from Draco and added a piece of Ginger Root to the potion. Still dark purple. He added another piece. Still dark purple. And yet after another piece of Ginger Root, their potion was still a dark purple.

“This is ridiculous,” he huffed, obviously frustrated, and thrust the bowl back at Draco. “Here. You do it.”

Draco rolled his eyes and pushed the bowl back towards him. “Come on, I know you are bloody  _ brilliant  _ at herbology. Think like you are in the greenhouse. What are some of the properties of Ginger Root?”

“Uh,” he seemed taken aback by the compliment. “It’s best produced in a warm, humid environment, picked at the full moon. It is useful in healing, the size of the rhizome is essential to production, especially in the speed of growing- I don’t know how any of this is bloody useful!”

Draco kept his calm. They weren’t in a time crunch, as their potion could simmer for a little longer, anyway. “Well, you seemed pretty confident after you added two pieces, right?”

“Are you  _ trying  _ to insult me? You watched me put the two pieces in, and then a third-”

“Hey, I know, I know. I am just trying to help.” He put his hands up in defense before grabbing a piece of the ginger. “Look at this. Does this seem fresh to you?”

“Absolutely not.” He said with confidence. “That’s definitely been sitting in a dark closet for  _ at least  _ three months.”

“And if you are not working with fresh ginger-”

“Then you should add six times more! Clearly, how could I be so  _ stupid! _ ” He picked up the bowl and began to add pieces upon pieces, smiling. Draco smiled a bit, too.

After the ninth additional piece, their potion immediately changed to a vibrant yet dark orange. Draco leaned his head over the potion and took in the spiced yet vaguely sweet aroma. “It is perfect.”

At that moment, Snape had come over to inspect their potion. “Indeed,” he muttered, almost surprised, and Draco bet that he had expected them to fail at the last step. “Ten points to Gryffindor. Please place a vial on my desk for further inspection, then you may begin your essay on the side effects on the potion. As for the rest of you! If your potion is not up to the same standard as this one, I hope you feel confident that I will be grading your essay just a tad more harshly.”

Longbottom seemed to have an extra pep in his step as they cleared the ingredients off their potions bench. By the time they had bottled their potion, put away the extra ingredients, vanished their potion, cleaned their cauldron, and took out their parchment and quills, none of the other partners had finished their potion. Potter and Finnigan had managed to burn their potion into a thick, black goop, and Granger and Weasley couldn’t get their potion to turn from purple to dark orange, and were currently bickering over who had messed up and where.

_ If only he were partnered with her.  _ He wouldn’t be giving her nearly as much trouble as The Weasel was, and he was sure that she wouldn’t be getting so frustrated at Draco.

“She’s really not as mad at you as you think she is,” Longbottom said.

“I- I was not staring-”

He chuckled, but then stopped immediately, as if he were afraid Draco might hex his head off for laughing at him. “It’s okay if you were. I know how close the two of you became in such a short time. I sat with you at lunch, remember?” Draco nodded. “You know, if you really want to be her close friend, you have to be a bit nicer to her other friends.”

He rolled his eyes in frustration. “It is  _ not  _ my fault! Potter is the one who comes up to me and always starts a fight.” He made brief eye contact with Potter as he whipped his head around after hearing his name in conversation. Draco felt something drop in his stomach for some inexplicable reason.

“Potter! Eavesdropping will  _ not  _ suddenly save your pathetic excuse for a potion,” Snape sneered, and Draco had to suppress his smile. 

“But have you even  _ tried  _ to be civil towards him? Have you even spoken a word towards Ron? I’ve shared a room with you for five years and I don’t think you have  _ ever  _ said a word to any of us.”

He sneered. “That is not true. First year-”

“Besides when you were bullying us, Malfoy.”

That shut him up. As much as he really didn’t want to admit it, Longbottom had a point. Hermione was inseparable from Potter and The Weasel. He was never going to be good friends with her if he couldn't even be in the same room as the two of them, together or separate. 

They didn’t speak for the rest of potions. Hermione still refused to sit, or even look at him, during their next two classes together. She was nowhere to be seen during lunch, and Draco deduced that she was probably hiding out in the library. He ate with Longbottom, mostly in silence, with the exception of a brief conversation.

“Hey Malfoy,” he started, and Draco looked up. “I, I just wanted to thank you for not being an arse in potions. And for helping me. It- it really means a lot to me.”

Draco just nodded, and the two of them shared a momentary pause before he blurted out, “is it alright if I call you Neville?”

He seemed shocked. “I mean, sure, I guess-”

“It, It just is tied to all that pureblood ideology crap. I get that I can be a dick sometimes, but I would much rather have people view me as a dick than an elitist. You do not have to call me Draco, I get that, but, uh, if you want to,” he trailed off.

Longb- Neville, shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, that’s alright. It’d be weird not calling you Malfoy, but I could give it a shot, I think.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

The rest of the day was a blur. Before he knew it, he was back in the Great Hall for dinner, and he saw Potter and Weasley sitting alone. _ Perfect.  _ This would be the perfect time to try to talk to them, to ask to call them by their first names. Perhaps he could talk with Potter about their last two meetings. There had to be some reason why he was so angry all the time, and maybe he just didn’t have an outlet. Draco was the next best thing to punching a wall. He took a deep breath and forced his feet to move towards them.

But as soon as he did so, Hermione had come out of nowhere and sat down next to them.  _ Maybe I could talk to her too-  _ No. They needed to have a private, more intimate conversation. Something was definitely off, and he didn’t know if it was right to talk about it in a place where anyone could drop an ear into their conversation.

He decided to eat in the library. He found a room off towards the back, the same one that he and Hermione had shared a few weeks ago, so that he could eat in peace without Pince yelling at him. He had just finished up  _ Pride and Prejudice,  _ and he had picked up  _ Ulysses,  _ by someone named James Joyce. He had only been able to get through fifteen pages before his head hurt too much and he had to move to something lighter, which today happened to be  _ Magical Drafts and Potions,  _ which he’d already read four times cover to cover but he always kept in his bag.

Before long, it was almost curfew, and he had spent his entire night with his face in a rudimentary potions book and his mind on Potter and The Weasel instead of his homework. He knew he would get distracted working in his dorm or the common room, but if he stayed here, he would risk getting caught by Pince or Filch and have to serve detention. 

He hoped that Hermione would be up doing the same thing, but he found the common room to be completely empty. Even the fire was out, which meant everyone was in their rooms. At least he’d be able to get some work done.

He opened his dorm door just in time to see Potter send his fist brutally into a wall.

“Mate, calm down!” Weasley shouted, running up to him. It was just the two of them, his other three roommates were nowhere to be seen. They must’ve been in someone else’s dorm or off sneaking around the castle somewhere.

He should do something. Say something. But his feet were frozen in place, and he was just standing there like an idiot in the doorway watching Weasley examine Potter’s hand.

Suddenly, Potter looked up, staring dead into his eyes. They were filled with rage and fury, and Draco could feel them burning down into his stomach, burning straight into his soul.

“Is there something you’re looking for, Malfoy?” He snapped.

At this point, Draco would usually turn on his heels and run. Or maybe grab a book, pretending like he had a purpose, but still run away without a word. But things were going to be different now.  _ He  _ was going to be different.  _ Don’t be an idiot. Say something nice. Don’t sneer at them for once.  _

“Are you okay?”  _ Seriously? That was the stupidest bloody thing you could’ve just said right now. _

The two of them just continued to stare. He took a few steps forward, kicking the door closed between them, and Weasley took a few steps to put himself between him and Potter.

“Back off, Malfoy. Umbridge already hurt Harry enough, we don’t need you adding to the damage.”

“Umbridge,  _ hurting  _ him?” He felt absolutely sick. The burning in his stomach had been replaced with a sick, twisting pain, and he felt something rising inside of him, something that felt like anger, but he just felt so sick he couldn’t tell exactly what it was. He wouldn’t put it past Umbridge to torture her students, but the fact that she was  _ actually  _ doing it, he didn’t want to think about it.

“Oi, Ron, you fucking idiot. You just  _ had  _ to run your mouth and say something, didn’t you?” Potter snapped. “Now if you could just grab whatever you came in here for and run away like you usually do, that would be brilliant.”

“You need to go straight to Dumbledore-”

“Dumbledore won’t do shit!” He yelled, turning his back to presumably punch the wall again, but Weasley grabbed his shoulders. “No one can find out about this. I swear to God, Malfoy, if you say  _ anything  _ about this to  _ anyone,  _ I will personally have you murdered.”

“Is that a threat?” He couldn't help but sneer as Potter verbally attacked him. He sighed. “Sorry. If you won’t let me tell anyone, at least let me take you to the hospital wing.”

“What the  _ hell  _ is your aim here, Malfoy? What, you want to take him off into the halls alone so you can finally push him off the Astronomy Tower-”

“It’s impossible to fall from the Astronomy Tower, they have charms in place, God has  _ anybody  _ ever read  _ Hogwarts, A History _ ?”

“Sod off-”

“Seriously. You must have broken a thousand bones in your hand. At least let The Weasel take you to Pomfrey.” 

“Don’t call him that!” Potter shouted. “What the hell has gotten into you? You come in here and offer to take me to the infirmary but then just go and insult my friend? Please, just leave! You can’t do anything but make this situation worse!”

Draco sighed.  _ He was right.  _ It’s not that there was no use in trying to be nice to Potter, or Weasley, but now just wasn’t the time. This was something very private, and him trying to butt his way into it wasn’t going to help anyone. His head told him to get out of there, but for whatever reason, his heart was pushing him to go on. “Fine. At least let me look at your hand. You know I have a stockpile of potions, I could find something to at least stop the bleeding.”

Potter suddenly pulled his hand into his sleeve, and his demeanor melted away. “No, no that’s perfectly alright. I think it’s stopped bleeding, actually. My hand is fine, there’s no need to-”

“Potter, why will you not let me see your hand?” He softened his voice and took one step forward while Potter took one stepped back. Weasley just stood there the whole time, frozen in place, his head darting back and forth between the two of them. 

“No, it’s really quite alright. It doesn’t even hurt!” They continued their game until Potter was pressed up against the wall, Draco still keeping his space but trapping Potter there.

“Give. Me. Your. Hand.”  _ Why the hell did he keep pressing on about this? _

“ _ Please,  _ Malfoy, it’s fine-”

Draco reached for his wrist, grabbing it, pulling his hand up to his face. Potter winced and turned his head away. His knuckles weren’t the problem, they were barely even bleeding.

_ “I must not tell lies.” _

His heart sank even further. He can’t believe she had gone  _ this  _ far.

“She used a fucking  _ black quill  _ on you?”

Potter yanked his hand back. “Of  _ course  _ you would know what that was. Go fuck off, seriously.”

He softly places his hands on his shoulders. Potter lifted his chin back up, staring at Draco. His eyes were no longer angry, no longer fueled by fire. They were sad, calm as the sea. And so  _ unbelievably  _ green. “Look, you  _ have  _ to go tell Dumbledore about this-”

“Are you fucking dense, Malfoy?” His eyes grew cold and angry again as he shoved him off. “Dumbledore won’t do anything about it! Fudge won’t even believe him about Voldemort coming back, I highly doubt he’ll believe him about this! It’s all just going to circle back to her, and she’ll- she, it- it’ll just get worse.” By the time he had finished, he had sounded  _ scared _ . 

He knew he  _ really  _ shouldn’t press on about it anymore. “I’ll get a potion. To help with the bleeding.”

He returned quickly with a vial and a cloth. He sat on the edge of Potter’s bed, with Potter next to him and Weasley sitting on his bed across from them. He tipped the vial onto the cloth and began gently dabbing it on the words. He winced. 

“I know it stings, it sucks, I am sorry. But it will stop the bleeding. I have never heard of someone getting an infection from a black quill, but sometimes it will scar. This should help prevent that.”

He just stared at him.

Weasley finally spoke up after being silent for so long. “No offense, Malfoy, but why the hell are you helping him? Did someone obliviate you? Give you a nasty head injury? Are you sure we shouldn’t be taking  _ you  _ to the hospital wing.”

Honestly, Draco didn’t know the answer to that question. 

He knew he needed to be nice to them to be friends with Hermione, but he could do that without butting his head into this mess. He could do that without sitting here, on Potter’s bed, without holding his hand and healing him, without making an attempt to comfort him in the only way he knew how, by babbling on about potions to distract him and let his mind wander.

Instead, he just croaked out “I fucked up.”

Weasley nodded. “Yeah, yeah you really did. It’s not  _ entirely  _ your fault, you had every right to be mad at her. But why’d you close yourself off for an entire  _ week _ ?”

He sighed, pouring the rest of the vial on the cloth. “Because it is the only thing I know how to do.”

Potter looked up at him, his eyes even sadder than when he was yelling about Umbridge. “That’s not true-”

“You know it is. I did it for four years.” They sat in an awkward silence as Draco finished rubbing the potion on his hand. “You know, I am surprised you have not punched me in the face yet.”

He could feel Potter clench and unclench his fist. “Believe me, I want to. But I’m trying for Hermione.”

The way he said her name hurt. He’s been able to say her name, on a first name basis, for years. He’s had two weeks and threw it all away.

“I really,  _ really _ miss her.” He choked as he corked the empty vial. “And I, well Neville helped me realize that if I want to be friends with her, then I at least have to  _ try  _ to be nice to the two of you.” He gave them a weak smile. “I’m sorry I intruded on this, it was personal, but I just  _ couldn’t  _ turn back and I don’t know  _ why. _ ”

“Neville, huh?” Potter said. Weasley didn’t say anything in response to Draco, just muttered something about needing to use the loo and left the two of them alone. “You’re on a first name basis with him too, I see.”

He gave a soft smile. “Yeah, I am trying to do away with the whole pureblood ideology shit, you know?”

He only nodded in response. They sat quiet for a little bit, hearing the faint sounds of the bathroom in the background. “You can call me Harry, if you want.”

He felt something flutter in his heart, but he didn’t know if he should really be so ready to give him a chance, after everything that he’s done in the past few weeks. But on the other hand, maybe he was in the very same position that he found himself in at the moment. In desperate need of a friend.

“Only if you agree to call me Draco.”

Draco was scared, but he was relieved when he nodded and smiled. “I don’t want to be fighting the way we have been. I miss our banter and teasing. The punches, the shoving against lockers, it’s just- it’s all a bit much, isn’t it?”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Yeah, it really is.”

Harry outstretched his hand. “Let’s make things right?”

Draco’s mind flew back to when he had first talked to him, boarding the train to Hogwarts. He was the one who had outstretched his hand, asking for Pott- Harry, to forgive him for being a little shit in the robe when he first met him. And he might as well have taken that handshake and thrown it in the trash, after he blamed Harry for the sorting and continued to do so for years.

But this time was going to be different. This time, he was going to  _ actually  _ make things right.

He took his hand, smiling. “Let’s make things right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think of the length of this chapter? I’ve been aiming for longer chapters lately, but this one is almost twice as long as my usual ones. I didn’t want to split it into two, but at the same time I’m not sure if it was too long. Is it okay? Should I go a little shorter, or even longer? Please let me know!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry this is so late! I was planning on making a double update this past weekend to make up for it, but I rewrote this chapter about three times instead because it just wasn’t turning out the way I wanted it to. It’s still kinda meh :/ so feedback is very very welcome!

Draco was sitting in the common room, trying to calm down from what had just happened.

_She was torturing him._

That sick, evil, twisted, maniacal, _bitch_.

It would be one thing if she was a Death Eater. If she looked like his Aunt Bellatrix. But no, she came off as a sickly sweet woman who liked cats and pink and ate too many cookies. And she used dark magic on her students.

He leaned over his knees, putting his head in his hands. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to go to Dumbledore. He didn’t feel safe at a place where teachers tortured their students. She had gone _far_ beyond anything Snape had done, and he was scared for his next Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He didn’t want to go anywhere near that woman. And his classmates didn’t even _know!_ To his knowledge, he, Potter, and Weasley were the only people who knew about this. How would his classmates protect themselves when they didn’t know what they were up against?

But Po- _Harry,_ had begged him not to go to Dumbledore. And he had a point. It wasn’t guaranteed that the Headmaster would be able to do anything about the situation. For fuck’s sake, there had been a bloody _basilisk_ in the school three years ago and nothing had been done back then! 

He felt hopeless. No one was going to do anything about it.

He lifted his head, pushing the anguish in his chest into a deep, dark closet somewhere inside of it. He would deal with it later. Along with, everything else. Eventually.

He jumped when he made eye contact with Hermione.

“It is two in the morning. I did not think anyone else was awake.” He stated, trying very hard not to stumble over his words. 

She was here. Staring him in the eyes. Not running away, not turning around some corner, not hiding from him. 

She was finally here.

“Hermione, I really want to-”

“No,” she cut him off, and he felt the anguish seeping back in. She sat down in the armchair across from him. “I want to apologize.”

He straightened his posture, mostly moving backward from shock. “You- _what?_ I was the one-” he trailed off, not being able to find the right words. He was baffled, hadn’t _he_ been the one in the wrong?

“I meant,” she said, “I wanted to apologize for stooping down to your level.”

_Ouch._

“I’m sorry, that was harsh, but it’s true. I’m sorry that I ran away from you, I shouldn’t have. I know you wanted to apologize to me, and I knew that you wanted to before Harry ever spoke to you. But I, something inside of me didn’t really want to accept it. I needed some time to clear my head.”

“Because you were not sure that being friends with me was a good idea.” He snapped, coldly.

“You don’t have to say it like that-”

“But I am right, am I not?” He raised an eyebrow, taking her silence as a yes. He sighed. “I do not blame you, I was being a dick. You had every right to be mad at me, but I had no idea to know that you were upset! How would you feel if _I_ said that our relationship was ‘ _purely academic_?’”

“You didn’t let me explain myself! Every time I tried to approach you, you ran away with a tail between your legs! You can’t just retreat into some shell and distance yourself from everyone every time you encounter a slight inconvenience, Draco!”

“You would not have to explain yourself if you never said that to begin with! Just because you said it behind my back, does not change the fact that you were badmouthing me to your friends.” She remained silent, and he raised his voice, feeling the betrayal bubbling and rising inside of him, bubbling and rising after he had pushed it down inside of him for a week and a half. “Why did you say it, to begin with?” He felt the anger bubbling, rising inside of him.

“I corrected myself, I-”

“That does not change the fact that you said it! What, were you ashamed of me? Did you not want Saint Potter to know that you were befriending the Quidditch-stealing enemy, huh? Did you not want the castle to know you were befriending a Malfoy? A blood-traitor? A pathetic excuse for a-”

“You shouldn’t say that stuff about yourself.” Her voice was turning soft, trying to calm him down.

He shrugged. “I do not see why not. Everyone else says it, so I should just accept that, right?”

“You can change what people think about you-”

“Well, _clearly_ not! Not even _you_ could accept that!”

“Draco, please, I am _so_ sorry. I panicked. Harry and Ron, they’re really dense. I didn’t know if they would understand. I shouldn’t have said that. Our relationship means a lot more to me than studying and academics.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He shouldn’t let his anger get the best of him. He needed to calm down. She really was becoming a good friend of his, and yes, he had every right to be angry at her, just as she had every right to be angry at him. He couldn’t let this one event destroy their relationship, and he needed to know when to back off. There were bigger things to worry about.

Opening his eyes, he saw that her face was bright red and her eyes were watery. “Can we put this behind us? You hurt me, but you had every right to be mad at me. I am sorry.”

_Wow, way to finally use that big brain of yours for once, Draco._

He felt like his head was going to explode. He was noticing every little thing around him. The fire was too hot, too bright. Hermione’s voice was too loud. His hands were shaking, sweating, his heart pounding too fast. Everything was too much.

“Draco, I want to, but I think we should talk more about this. I don’t want you to feel like-”

He stood up, cutting her off. He panted, barely being able to get the words out of his mouth. He felt weak, like he was going to collapse any second. “I cannot do this right now. I am sorry-”

“Don’t run away!” She yelled. “You can’t keep doing this!”

Too much had happened. Too fast. Why couldn’t he go back to the way things were? Why couldn’t he go back to being a nobody, away from all the drama, away from all these problems?

He didn’t ask to be thrown into this situation. He didn’t ask to be standing up to pureblood elitist first years, to be on a first name basis with everyone in his house. And now here he was, trying to fix a friendship that was doomed from the start, comforting his roommate whom he hadn’t spoken to for five years after their teacher was using medieval _torture_ methods on him.

He didn’t feel safe. He felt safe hiding in the dark corners of the library and the room of requirement. Not here in the common room, where people had started to come out of their rooms to see what all of the yelling was about.

Something was wrong. He was falling back into his chair. Why was he falling? He felt as if his veins were freezing over, he was shivering, yet he was sweating through his shirt.

Or was he wet? Maybe he was drowning. He heard voices, someone was yelling, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying, like he was underwater.

That probably explained why his face was wet. He wasn’t crying, he was underwater. That had to be it.

It also explained why he couldn’t breathe.

He felt a hand placed delicately on his chest. Was someone trying to pull him out of the water?

He must’ve swum too deep, because everything softly faded to black.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Before this year, Draco had never actually been to the Hospital Wing. 

He never had any reason to. He didn’t play Quidditch before, so it wasn’t like he was falling out of the sky. He kept to himself, never getting into any fights, and he never had to have a visit after an accident in potions or charms because he simply never messed up enough for something severe to happen.

The first time he visited Madam Pomfrey was when Harry broke his nose. But that was just a quick walk down to the office. Now, he had woken up in a bed, and he had no idea why. 

He looked around. It was still the middle of the night, and he was the only one in the room. He sat up, carefully, as to not agitate anything that he had injured. But as he sat up, he found that he was able to do so with ease, and nothing was giving him pain. His head didn't even hurt. Why was he here?

Madam Pomfrey had stepped out from behind a door a box of potions tucked underneath her arm, rushing over to him. “Oh, take it easy my dear boy!”

“But I feel fine. Why am I here?”

She rolled her eyes. “You bloody Gryffindors. Always insisting that you are just _fine_ even when you’ve fallen fifty feet off a broomstick?”

“I fell off a broomstick?” He was shocked. If that was true, then Pompfrey really was an _amazing_ healer. He felt nothing.

She chuckled, setting the box of potions on the nightstand next to him and grabbed the clipboard that sat next to it. “Oh, heavens no. I’m afraid that you’ve had a panic attack.”

 _A panic attack?_ “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

The mediwitch sighed. “Your friend, Miss Granger brought you in. You had fainted in your common room, do you remember that?”

He struggled to concentrate. He remembered sitting by the fire with her, arguing over who had been in the wrong during their friendship. It was stupid, really. “I remember talking with her, then all of a sudden I just, I think I got really overwhelmed. I- I started shivering, and I felt like I was drowning, and I couldn’t hear anything and I felt like I-”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Take a deep breath. Can you do that for me?”

He looked her in the eyes before watching her shoulders rise and fall, and he tried to mimic her. He didn’t even realize that he had stopped breathing and he felt the knot in his chest start to loosen. “I am sorry, I don’t know why-”

“You don’t have to apologize, my dear boy.” She smiled, reaching into the box and taking out a vial. “Here, I think you should drink this.”

He immediately recognized it as a calming draught, and gulped it down without complaining. He knew there was no use in fighting Pomfrey, no one ever got their way against her.

She waited until his breathing had returned to normal before continuing. “I believe that you and Granger were talking about something that upset you, which is why you got overwhelmed. Sometimes, people can get so overwhelmed that their body can have a physical reaction to their stress, and that’s what happened to you.”

He tried to understand it, he really did, but nothing made sense. “But, why did it happen? Why tonight? Did I start to do it again just now?” He was glad that he was given the potion, or else he was afraid that he would start hyperventilating again.

“Has anything like this ever happened to you before?” He shook his head. He had been nervous, or scared, before, but not to the point where he lost control. “Have you been more stressed, recently?’

He scoffed. “That would be an understatement.”

“I see,” she nodded. “Fifth year is often one of the more stressful years for students-”

“How do I stop it from happening again?” He cut her off. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if something like that had happened during something important, like an exam, or something that could put him in danger, like in the middle of a Quidditch game.

She gently stroked his hair. “I think you ought to get some sleep, it’s still the middle of the night. There are many ways to approach it, and not everything works the same for everyone. We can discuss it in the morning, but I think that your brain could use a little bit of rest.”

He nodded, not realizing how tired he was. 

“I will leave you a bottle of dreamless sleep on your nightstand, if you feel that you should need it,” she said, grabbing the box and standing up.

Draco couldn’t remember what she had said, as he was already drifting off by the time she began to walk away.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Hermione was waiting for him outside the Hospital Wing in the morning.

She had instantly flung herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. “Oh, Draco, I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m so, _so,_ sorry-”

He pulled back, cutting her off. Letting his hands rest on her elbows, Draco stared into her eyes. “What the _hell_ are you sorry for?”

She shifted awkwardly. “I, I think I pushed you too hard last night. I should have just accepted your apology and went to bed, but I kept-”

“It is okay,” he said, smiling. “You did not know how I was going to react like that, and you wanted to talk about our friendship. I get that.”

She smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to say for a brief moment. “Do you want to head down to breakfast? I’m sure you’re starving right now.”

He chuckled. “That I am, I will freshen up after I eat.”

They started walking in stride to the Great Hall, which was on the complete other side of the castle. While he was very hungry, Draco didn’t mind too much, as it allowed them to talk without other people watching them.

“So, you are alright, then? After everything?” Normally, Draco would think that someone who asked a question like that would be prying, sticking their nose into his personal life, but he felt Hermione’s genuine tone. His chest felt warm, as it was nice to have someone care about him.

“Yeah, I am doing alright.” He was going to stop there, but he knew she would be restless without more information. “I had, um, a panic attack,” he lowered his voice. “I just, got so overwhelmed that, I, my body had a physical reaction, I guess. Pomfrey helped me with some ways to stop it, and gave me some calming draughts for emergencies. I will be meeting with her again later this week, but I think everything is going to be alright.”

“That’s great to hear,” she said, then paused before continuing, “Harry feels really bad about what happened.”

He stopped in his tracks. Why in the _fuck_ would _Harry Potter_ care if he had a panic attack? “If he really felt bad then he would be here right now. Look around.”

Hermione sighed in frustration. “Why do you always think the worst of people?”

 _Because if you give them the benefit of the doubt, you always end up getting hurt._ But he wasn’t going to say that out loud to her. 

“But he really does, Draco. He told me about everything that happened last night, in the dorm room.” _Oh._ He had forgotten about that, but purposefully or not, he wasn’t quite sure. “He was sure that he had something to do with overwhelming you, and, well, he thought if he showed up at the Hospital Wing he might freak you out a bit.”

“Him? Freak me out? Please,” he said, picking up his stride again. She was one hundred percent right, but he would refuse to admit it. 

Draco was dreading his next reaction with him. Their encounter was completely out of character for Draco, but that wasn’t it. It was the first time that he had ever attempted to be _civil_ with Harry, and comforting him after being punished by Umbridge had been sort of a big leap. On top of that, the moment they had shared after Weasley had left felt oddly intimate, and it was a big deal to him.

But as he stepped into the Great Hall, he was sitting right there. He made eye contact with Draco the second that he had walked through the doors, his eyes expressing a brief moment of concern before looking away, almost like he was embarrassed. 

Hermione led them right to him, taking a seat next to Harry, leaving him to sit across from them, next to Weasley.

Draco realized that this was the first time that he was sitting with the two of them, and they both seemed very uncomfortable.

“I am fine, thanks for asking,” he said, trying to break the silence and the tension, but the glare that he received from Hermione made him feel like that had been the wrong thing to say.

That turned out to be an understatement.

You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. It was like their heart to heart in the dorm had completely gone out the window. The three boys avoided eye contact, pretending to be interested in their waffles or a peculiar spot on the wall.

“Oh come, _on_ !” Hermione finally snapped. “I’m friends with Draco, the two of you have to accept that! And _you_ have to accept that Harry and Ron aren’t going to hex your head off!”

“Well-” Harry started.

“Not funny!” She snapped. 

Draco put up his hands defensively. “I just don’t understand why the two of you hate me so much.”

Harry looked up from his plate and stared him dead in the eyes, making something not sit right inside of him. 

It was weird that they had agreed to be on a first name basis while there was still so much tension between them. And Weasley basically didn’t exist in his world.

“Go on, Harry, tell him.” She said. What a pleasant conversation this was. 

“‘Mione!”

“He hates you because you refused his friendship first year.” Weasley said.

Draco couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, you _what_? This is all due to some playground bullshit?”

He pushed his sausage links around. “I- I have strong feelings sometimes.”

He didn’t know why it upset him, it just did. “Well, I am sorry. And I am sorry for bullying you. It was a dick move on my part, I was a righteous little brat.”

Weasley scoffed. “Like a true Malfoy.”

He shifted on the bench. “I talked to uh, Harry last night,” it was still weird to say his name, and judging by the way he looked at him, it was weird for Harry to hear Draco say his name. “But I really do not want to be tied to the Malfoy name anymore, and I think calling people by their last name is a bit pretentious, so, um, if it is okay with you I would like to be on a first name basis.”

He squinted at Draco, as if he were trying to see through some sort of veil of lies around him. Eventually, he just shrugged. “Seems fair to me,” and shoved a spoonful of food in his mouth. 

Draco didn’t necessarily expect him to jump on board so quickly, but he wasn’t about to protest it.

They ate in silence for a bit, but Hermione seemed pleased enough with their rather rough conversation that she didn’t snap at anyone. 

It was Harry who broke the silence again. “I’m sorry, Mal- _Draco._ I shouldn’t be such a dick, either. And, um, I’m sorry for what happened last night.”

Draco just shook his head and chuckled. He didn’t find the particular situation very humorous, but it was funny, almost in a maniacal way. “You’re ridiculous. I am not scared of you, I am scared of, _her,_ ” he lowered his voice, gesturing over to Umbridge’s seat at the staff table. “I feel like it is second year all over again, and I feel like I am not safe at Hogwarts.”

The three of them were silent, and Draco went back to pushing his food around his plate, afraid that he had overshared.

“Well,” Hermione cleared her throat, talking barely above a whisper. “Harry, Ron and I have been talking about that lately. We can’t just sit around and do nothing, but- we can’t talk about this here.” She cast a nervous glance around her. “We are going to meet in the library tonight, the same room that we have been studying in, Draco, at eight o’clock. Don’t tell anyone. If anyone asks where you’re going, Draco is tutoring us in potions.”

“Hey-” Ron started.

“Believe me, you could benefit from some of my help,” Draco scoffed, earning a glare from across the table. “Sorry.”

“Eight o’clock. Library. Don’t be late.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Draco fiddled with the potion vial in his pocket as he descended the steps down to the library. _Now, this is for emergencies only, do you understand? You should take this only if nothing else we’ve discussed works. It’s probably best you let a friend know about it, so that they can help you in an emergency._

He decided it was probably best to keep it on him at all times, in case there was an emergency. But what counted as an emergency? He had only ever had something like this happened to him just this one time, but he was pretty sure that losing consciousness counted as an emergency. But how would he know if he was going to pass out? How did he know if he was having a panic attack or just general anxiety? Pomfrey had explained it to him, but he didn’t quite fully understand it. What if this was just something his brain was making up, and he was faking it and being a big drama queen over nothing?

He bumped into someone at the bottom of the stairs. “Oi, watch where you’re going!” He heard the voice call at him.

He forced his eyes up, which had been previously glued to his feet. He was fully prepared to berate whomever he had bumped into, even though it was his fault. But when he locked eyes with the person, his voice turned soft. “Oh, sorry, Harry.”

He seemed surprised. “Oh, um, hi, Draco.”

They awkwardly stood there, just staring at each other, not moving. “We should probably get going, I think Hermione will hex us if we are late,” Draco said.

He started moving past Harry, refusing to make eye contact with him, when Harry grabbed Draco’s elbow and pulled him back. Draco felt the warmth of Harry’s hand through the sleeve of his robe, which was oddly comforting yet awkward.

“Wait,” he breathed, “I, I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you. Without anyone else around.”

Draco shook his arm free, staring at his feet to avoid Harry’s gaze. “Hermione briefly mentioned that.”

“I, I just wanted to say that I’m really, _really,_ sorry-”

“Stop,” he cut him off harshly. “Don’t do that. You don’t even like me that much-”

“You know that things are changing-”

“Then how come you were not apologizing for punching my face? Or cornering me and nearly attacking me in the locker room? You did not seem too sorry for hurting me then.”

“Draco,” he said, “Please, I want to make things right.”

“Why?” He snapped. “Is it your savior complex?”

“No, I-”

“Is it because you pity me?”

“I, of all people, would never-”

“Is it just for the sake of Hermione?”

“No-”

“Is it because you are blaming yourself for something that is completely out of your control and is not your fault at all?”

He paused, refusing to look at Draco. He knew he hit it spot on. “I mean, it’s just that you were so _nice_ to me last night, I expected you to just turn around and walk away, I was surprised when you actually talked to us. But then you sat there and _stayed_ there and helped me. I feel like I had some fault in what happened.

Draco didn’t know how to respond. He shrugged. “Fine. Just pretend I was not nice to you. Problem solved?”

Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You’re really making this whole _friend_ thing kinda difficult.”

“You are right,” he said, taking a step closer, forcing Harry to look him in the eyes. _How the fuck are his eyes so green?_ “It is hard for me, for me to do this. But I am willing to try, and you need to be too. That means not blaming yourself for _my_ problems and focusing on your _own_ problems. Hermione already gets mad at me for pushing my problems away, I do not think she can handle the both of us doing that.”

He smiled. Harry Potter actually smiled at him? He was sure it was first, it seemed forced, it was a small smile that didn’t reach the rest of his face. But a smile nonetheless.

“You’re right. C’mon, I’m sure she’s waiting for us.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter, hopefully you can see things finally looking up and the pace picking up a bit! I am VERY excited for the next two chapters, I can't WAIT until next week!
> 
> But for now, enjoy! <3

“Thanks for finally showing up.” 

Draco rolled his eyes as he shut the door behind them. Yes, Hermione had told them to meet in the room in the library at eight o’clock,  _ sharp.  _ Yes, it was five past. But it was  _ only  _ five past.

“Geez, you’d think she’d be a little more happy to see us? We’re only conspiring against the Ministry here.” Harry snarked right back as he took a seat across from her, the only seat left available being next to him and across from Ron.

“Glad to see that Malfoy here is rubbing off on the  _ both  _ of you,” Ron said with a smirk on his face, which caused Draco to snarl.

“Thanks,  _ Weasley,”  _ he snarled back, being sure to emphasize the last name. “I would expect that much from Harry, sure, but Hermione!” He gasped. “I am  _ shocked! _ ”

“Oh, shut it,” she snapped back, but with a playful tone, as she opened up the parchment she had sitting in front of her. “Sorry for  _ assuming  _ that a fifteen year old boy could be punctual.”

“Well, I  _ would  _ have been on time if it weren’t for- ow!” Draco cut Harry off with a brief stomp on his foot under the table. Hermione didn’t need to know about their bickering outside the library. 

“Well, I guess I’m just going to have to cut five minutes off our agenda somewhere, so-” she trailed off, dragging her quill down the paper as she scanned the page, “I guess we won’t have time to discuss the textbooks I researched in as much depth as I had hoped to-” 

“Blimey, the horror!” Ron quipped.

“-not that I expected any of you to be paying attention during that portion of our meeting to begin with,” she continued, and Draco was just the slightest bit offended. “Now, we have a few things to talk about. The first being that nothing, and I mean  _ nothing  _ we discuss here can leave this room.”

The three boys nodded in agreement.

“You did put a silencing charm on the room before we came in, correct?” Draco asked, concerned. They hadn’t done anything necessarily illegal  _ yet,  _ but if Umbridge had walked past when Harry made his previous snarky remark about conspiring against the Ministry, things wouldn’t be looking too great. 

She blushed and picked up her wand, making the swift motion for  _ muffliato.  _ “Um, of course I did. Now before we get into business, I suppose we should fill Draco in.”

Harry and Ron nodded. Now, Draco wasn’t an idiot. He had a vague idea of what was going on, he knew that the three of them were planning on going behind Unbridge’s back in some sense. And there were textbooks involved. But that was pretty much the end of it.

“So, clearly, we are not going to learn  _ anything  _ in Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. Not like we really have been in years past, but this year is just  _ different.”  _ Draco nodded along in agreement as she spoke. “So, we’re planning on teaching ourselves, in a way. We want to create a group of students who actually want to  _ learn  _ how to defend themselves, if not for their safety, then at least for passing their O.W.L.s this year.”

“No offense, but how the  _ hell  _ are we going to do that?” Draco sat up. “It’s a great idea, don’t get me wrong. But none of us are  _ professors.  _ Not to mention that the Ministry has banned all forms of student groups like these, and no offense, some of the people in this room are not exactly the most  _ subtle  _ of all people.” He shot a side glance at Harry, who refused to make eye contact with him. 

“I dunno, maybe having survived encounters with Voldemort  _ four times  _ would teach me a thing or two about defense.”

That comment shut Draco up. It did for everyone.

“What, you don’t have a smart remark saved in your back pocket for that one?”

He scoffed. “Sorry, I don’t make it a point to harass you  _ every  _ time we speak-”

“Oh, really? My previous encounters beg to differ-”

“Maybe it is because you are such a-”

The two of them were cut off when Ron burst out in laughter. Hermione gave him a dirty look and poked him in the ribs with her elbow, which just made him laugh harder. “What in the  _ bloody  _ hell is wrong with you?”

“I- I’m sorry-” he choked out between bits of laughter, “it’s just- they’re so pathetic!” He laughed again. “I mean honestly, put these two withing five feet of each other and it takes them  _ thirty seconds  _ to start bickering!”

“That’s not true-” Harry began to say just as Draco said “Maybe if he wasn’t such a prick-” which caused Ron to burst into a fit of laughter again.

“Do you see what I mean?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and buried her head in her hands. “I honestly don’t know why I try to be serious around you lot.”

Draco felt guilty. Hermione really seemed passionate about this, and here the three of them were, not taking an ounce of it seriously. “So, uh-” he coughed, trying to be casual. “So Harry can teach from experience, obviously, what can we do?”

Hermione lifted her head up and smiled. “Well, I have been doing a lot of research on what books students typically use to prepare for their exams, and I was hoping we could make a curriculum out of those, maybe highlighting some of the things Harry thinks are important.”

Draco nodded. “Actually, I might know of a few. My father had a ton of books about dark arts in his study, I remember the name of them, I would just have to check them out of the restricted section. I could probably get Snape to sign a note for me, I could say it is for some personal potions project or something.”

Hermione seemed really enthusiastic about this, but Ron seemed confused when he said “why would your father have books of Defense? I mean no offense, but I don’t see why he’d have those.”

“I am not offended at all,” he said, “I really don’t care what people think of my father anymore. And you are right, they are not Defense books, they are books about the Dark Arts themselves. But it’s important to study both sides. How are you going to defend yourself if you don’t know what you are up against? Moody was the only one who bothered to touch upon it, and I am sure he will be the only one to do so. Hogwarts doesn’t like to teach us about it, but I think it is important.”

“He’s right,” Harry said, “you can’t just go out there with no idea of what you’re up against.”

Draco tried not to think of all the things Harry had been up against. He couldn’t imagine what horrors he had faced in the graveyard, or in the Chamber of Secrets, or with Quirrel and the Philosopher’s stone.

“Great, I’m sure you and I can work on that,” Hermione said, “now, you’re right about what you said earlier. About how people aren’t exactly inconspicuous. I’m planning on giving everyone these.” She pulled out a coin from her pocket and put it on the table.

“What in the bloody hell are we going to do with some galleons?” Ron said. “It’s not like we can buy-”

“It’s a Protean Charm,” Draco cut him off, picking up the coin and squinting at it. He couldn’t believe that she had even  _ thought  _ about using one, let alone being able to successfully charm the coin. It was a N.E.W.T. level spell, and while Draco had always been decent at charms, he wasn’t even  _ close  _ to being able to do a charm like that.

“I’m sorry, not all of us speak textbook, can one of you please explain?” Harry rolled his eyes.

Draco flipped the coin at him. “The coins are all connected to a parent coin, which I am assuming is this one. Hermione can charm it to have a message on it, and it will heat up when it appears. That way we can spread information to people without having to tell them or send a note- Hermione, you’re  _ brilliant! _ ” He exclaimed.

“Thanks,” she took the coin back, blushing. “This weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend. I was planning on getting the word out to people we can trust, and have a meeting at the Hog’s Head or something, and I’ll give out the coins there. The only problem is that we don’t have a place we can safely meet after that.”

“An old classroom?” Ron suggested.

“No,” she sighed, “Umbridge will have eyes all over the castle. The classrooms, corridors, everything. Unless we meet in common rooms or outside the castle, I don’t know what we can do.”

Draco’s eyes lit up. “I know a place!”

“Of  _ course  _ you do,” Harry mumbled as he rolled his eyes, and Draco pretended to not hear him. He wouldn’t let Harry’s negativity bring out the worst in him, for once.

“There is this room on the seventh floor. It doesn’t appear until you  _ need  _ it to appear. Most people don’t know about it because they never need it, or they never need it more than once. I’m sure if we go up to it and walk past, thinking about how we need a classroom, somewhere we can safely teach ourselves, Hogwarts will give it to us.”

“So say you really needed to use the bathroom,” Ron started.

“The principle would apply, yes,” Draco said as he thought about it. “I’m sure a lavatory appeared.”

“That’s perfect,” Hermione said as she checked her watch. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to check it out now, but we’ll definitely get a chance before our first meeting. We;ll want to space them out, anyway.”

Draco nodded.

He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this. He was conspiring against the Ministry, with  _ Harry Bloody Potter,  _ of all people. Well, more like Harry Potter’s best mates, he still didn’t seem to want anything to do with him, even if he did give him a shitty half-assed apology.

It was exciting. He had never broken the rules before, and he couldn’t wait.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Draco kicked off the ground, spraying mud everywhere.

It was hard to see in the rain, and the water and mud on his broomstick made it hard to hold on, but he didn’t care. He had two things to worry about, getting the quaffle, and putting in through the hoops. Oh, and not getting hit by a bludger and falling off his broom, but that was a given. 

He had to prove to his teammates that he was worthy of being a starter. They faced Hufflepuff in a week, and they were going to put out the best team they could, and if that meant cutting Draco, then they would cut Draco. Yes, he made the team initially, but everyone had improved astronomically since they started practicing together. If he had been up against his current teammates in their current positions when he had tried out, he wasn’t sure if he would even make the team, let alone the reserves.

But he had gotten much better since he had tried out, too. He had gotten faster, stronger, and just all-around more athletic. He was better at reading the keeper, watching their eyes, predicting how they would predict he would move. 

That’s one thing he didn’t necessarily like about being a Chaser, even though he only had two things to worry about, he really had a lot of things to worry about. He had to make plays, communicate with his teammates, and read the defense. It wasn’t like being a seeker when all he could worry about was looking for the small golden ball.

But still, it came naturally to Draco, and the Friday afternoon practices became the highlight of his week. He could let all of his worries, personal, school, whatever, just fall away beneath him as he scored into the sky. The adrenaline pumping through his veins made him feel  _ alive,  _ and he could feel the serotonin flood his brain whenever he scored a goal.

Which didn’t happen this time.

He paused for a brief moment when Ron caught his ball.  _ How the hell did he do that? _ He was on the other side of the set of hoops! He thought that he had read the situation perfectly, staring at him dead in the eyes, flying straight at the keeper while tossing the ball behind him to the hoop that he had just passed.

“Oi, that was a bloody nice shot, Draco!” He called out, tossing the ball to one of the chasers on his scrimmage’s team. “I barely caught that one!”

“I- how-” he was baffled, not just at Ron being able to catch (not even block, but  _ catch _ ) the ball, but that he had actually, genuinely, complimented him. “That was an amazing save,” he said back weakly, before flying off to grab the Quaffle back.

It happened again at least two more times before it was too dark to see the ball anymore. The second time hadn’t caught Draco as off guard, and soon they were yelling things like “quit catching all my damn shots, Weasley,” and “stop making my job so difficult, Malfoy!” 

The two of them continued in the locker room. “Where have you been the past five years? Honestly Draco, you could’ve saved our house a  _ lot  _ of trouble.”

Draco smirked as he turned away to change his shirt. “You’re one to talk! You could have given Wood a run for his money, how come you never tried out?”

Draco turned back around and locked eyes. Ron’s darted over to the corner, where Harry was rummaging through his locker alone. He lowered his voice. “Honestly, Quidditch has always been  _ Harry’s  _ thing. You saw what he was like when you said you tried out for seeker.”

Draco pursed his lips and nodded. 

Ron continued, “it’s hard being his friend sometimes. I really do hope the two of you work out whatever you have between each other because you don’t seem like you’ll put up with his shit. I give into it more than I should.”

“You shouldn’t have to-” he started, but then Harry slammed his locker shut. He wasn’t sure if he had been listening to their conversation, he was far enough away to the point where Draco thought it was impossible to eavesdrop. But maybe the lowering of their voice and awkward glances signaled that they were talking about him.

But then again, Harry Potter was  _ the  _ most oblivious person Draco had ever met, and he was probably just in one of his moods.

Ron punched him on a shoulder in a gentle, brotherly way. “Nice work out there mate, I’ll see you in Hogsmeade tomorrow!” He called off as he jogged to catch up with his twin brothers. 

_ “I really do hope the two of you work out whatever you have between each other” _

_ Me too, Ron,  _ Draco thought as he folded the rest of his clothes and put them into his bag.  _ Me too. _

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“Well, I think that went well.”

The four of them walked out of the Hog’s Head onto the cobblestone pavement, the mid-October air greeting them with the final, slightest touch of warmth for the year.

Hermione was right, it had gone well. At least from Draco’s point of view, it had gone  _ very  _ well. They managed to make it through the meeting without a single snide remark from Harry or Draco, so he would call it a success.

As for the meeting itself, Draco would call that a success, too. They had gathered around twenty people, mostly Gryffindors, although a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were in the mix. He didn’t know most of the people there, which caused him to feel a little uneasy, but Hermione had seemed to trust them.

And thus, Dumbledore’s Army had been formed.

Never, in a million years, would Draco think that he would take part in doing such a thing. He kept telling himself that it was just for school, it was just to pass his O.W.L.s. But even he couldn’t believe his own lie.

He was scared. Something had changed in the Wizarding World in the past year, he could feel it. Anyone who claimed the opposite was either oblivious or lying to themselves, or both. Draco could feel the dark energy in the air, and he needed to learn about it, he needed to learn how to protect himself against it.

And now he had a handful of other people to worry about protecting as well.

He almost laughed out loud to himself. This was not the way he pictured himself five years ago. As a Gryffindor, almost certainly entering a war, going against the Ministry with Harry Potter and co. 

“Oh!” Hermione gasped suddenly, breaking Draco’s train of thought. “I was supposed to meet Ginny after our meeting, I completely forgot, sorry, I’ve got to run!”

Ron cleared his throat. “I’m actually supposed to help Fred and George scope out Zonko’s for product ideas, I’ll catch up with the two of you later.”

_ That can’t be a coincidence.  _ The two of them just so happen to have to leave immediately after their meeting? Either the two of them were trying to get some time by themselves, or they were forcing Draco and Harry to spend some time together.

“Reckon you’re gonna run off like them, too?” Harry said once the two of them were gone. Draco glanced over at him, his hands were shoved deep in his pockets and he stared at his feet as the two of them ambled aimlessly along the cobblestone path.

Draco shrugged and looked away. “I do not really have anything else to do.”

They sort of just continued on the path, roaming around Hogsmeade, Harry saying hi to people they passed as Draco just stared blankly ahead. To say it was uncomfortable was an understatement.

He wanted to come up with an excuse to leave, just as Hermione and Ron had done. But he was supposed to be making friends with Harry, so what good would running away do?

Then again, he didn’t owe Harry  _ anything.  _ He was the one who has been nothing but difficult, sure he wasn’t throwing punches his way anymore, but he had to talk back to Draco whenever he spoke. Harry wasn’t exactly making things easy for him.

He could be friends with Hermione and Neville without being friends with Harry. Hermione would just have to deal with the fact that they were two separate people, that they butt heads too much to ever be friendly with each other. So what, all of her friends didn’t get along? She had to consider Draco’s feelings if they were going to be true friends, and if Draco felt like Harry was an asshole, then Draco felt like Harry was an asshole, and he didn’t owe anything to Harry  _ or  _ Hermione.

Draco had spent five years being walked over. Now, more than ever, was the perfect time to try to stand up to himself and make that change.

But he was trying to make an effort to be civil, at least. It was frustrating to always be at Harry’s throat, and maybe having things calm down would be a big stress relief. So he wasn’t going to run away, no. But he also wasn’t going to initiate any conversation. If Harry wanted to talk to him and try to be friends, then that was Harry’s decision. 

Draco glanced over once again, and he could tell that the messy hair boy beside him was extremely uncomfortable as well. He seemed, almost defeated. Maybe Draco should make an outwards effort towards him?

No.

It didn’t matter, anyway.

“So, I saw you were getting along with Ron at practice yesterday,” Harry said in an effort to break the silence after what seemed like an eternity.

Draco hummed and nodded his head. Wow, The Boy Who Was Oblivious finally noticed something that didn’t involve him.  _ Say something, you idiot. Stop coming off so cold and defensive.  _ “He played really well yesterday. I think we are going to do very well about Hufflepuff.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “I think so too, but we can’t underestimate them. They don’t come off intimidating like Ravenclaw or Slytherin, they don’t score very high, but they’re excellent at finding the snitch and protecting their seeker.”

“You know what they say,” Draco replied, “Hufflepuffs are excellent finders.”

Harry chuckled, and Draco felt a surge of warmth despite the chilly gust of wind that passed. This was nice, just having a normal conversation with Harry. It was a decent break from all the bickering and half-assed apologies. Maybe this could be their new normal.

He thought back to what Ron had said.  _ Quidditch has always been Harry’s thing.  _ Well, maybe it could become Harry  _ and  _ Draco’s thing. Maybe they could actually bond over something. He was already feeling much more comfortable.

“Do you want to go inside?” Draco asked. “It is getting a bit windy.”

Harry nodded, suggesting that they go back into the Hog’s Head and grab a butterbeer. Draco happily obliged and followed him in, continuing on about quidditch.

“How do you  _ not  _ have a favorite team?” Harry seemed shocked.

“I just sort of fell out of paying attention to them in the past few years.” He shrugged as he wiped the condensation off the outside of his glass, staring into the table. “I would usually just cheer for whoever was in first place, as a kid.”

Harry chuckled, murmuring something about how he didn’t expect anything less, and they fell back into their silence. It grew more and more uncomfortable by the minute. They had already gone through all the small talk topic of conversation about quidditch, and neither boy could find the right thing to say.

“Look, Draco, I know I’ve been a bit of an arse-”

“If you are going to give me another half-assed apology, you can save it,” Draco snarled, cutting him off. Harry didn’t seem to expect this, his head snapping up, his green eyes filled with shock stared deep into Draco's. “I have made my apology to you, and if you cannot accept that-”

“Oh, you have made your apology to me?” He raised his voice, earning a few stares from nearby tables before he brought it back down. “If you’re going to talk about half-assed apologies, then so be it.  _ Sorry you were tortured. Here’s a healing potion. Also, I was kinda mean the past five fucking years, oh well. Don’t call me Malfoy. Friends? _ ”

How could Draco ever think he could get along with such an arrogant bastard?

“That is not-”

“Well, that’s what it sounded like to me!”

He clenched and unclenched his fists, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “Look, I am really not good at this whole people thing, alright? You saw me and Hermione. I have tried to be nothing but friendly- don’t you  _ dare  _ try to interrupt me!” He snarled, pointing a finger. “I have made it  _ very  _ clear that I want to start over and do things right. I apologize if that never came through, I really do. But I just want to say that I do not  _ owe  _ you anything! I can be friends with Hermione without being friends with you. If you are not going to at least meet me halfway and  _ try  _ to be civil back, then I am not going to keep trying to work on a friendship that isn’t there.”

He let out a sigh, leaning back into his chair. He had really done himself in, now.

“I just don’t understand what you want from me,” Harry mumbled.

What  _ did  _ Draco want from him? He wanted a formal apology, yes, but Harry had tried. He had sort of apologized before their meeting in the library, hadn’t he?

“Maybe all we need is time,” Draco said, defeated. “We have spent so long hating each other that we can’t be friends overnight, no matter how hard we try.” 

Harry nodded, also seeming a bit disappointed. Why the hell was  _ he  _ sad? He was the one that everyone liked. “I guess so.”

Why did Draco feel so upset right now? Wasn’t he getting exactly what he wanted? Harry Potter, at his fingertips, willing to do whatever it took to be his friend. Maybe it was because actions speak louder than words. Sure, Harry was  _ saying  _ that he’d like to be friends, but who knew if he was actually going to act like it? Maybe it was because as much as he secretly enjoyed getting under Harry’s nerves, he didn’t like seeing him so upset.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t try, right?” Draco said, trying to lift his spirits. “We did shake on the other night, didn’t we?”

He gave a small smile but didn’t lift his gaze from the middle of the table. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He opened his mouth to say something more, to change the conversation topic, to do  _ something  _ to make the poor kid feel better, but nothing came out.

“There you guys are!” Hermione burst out happily, pulling out a chair from a nearby table, Ron following suit. 

She jumped straight into a conversation with Harry and Ron, leaving Draco to sit in silence, alone with his thoughts, thinking about where he had gone wrong.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, finally an update on an actual Sunday! Well, it’s almost 2 AM here, so I guess it’s technically Monday, but I’m getting better, I promise!  
> I really really love this chapter. Things are finally looking up, and I hope you enjoy it as well :)  
> The next chapter is my absolute FAVORITE, It’s been in my head since I first thought through the idea for this story, so I’m really excited to finish it and to have you guys read it. This chapter is a very close second favorite, though!  
> I hope you enjoy!!

Draco had so much to do. 

Thursday nights, along with Sunday nights, were always the busiest of the week. Why was it that every single professor just _had_ to assign all their essays and projects to be due on the same exact days? It had been like this every year, where everything was either due on a Friday or Monday. Couldn’t the professors just work something out? Why was it that McGonagall and Sprout _always_ had their essays due on the same day? 

He was sure Snape lined up his assignments on purpose just to torture his students, but why couldn’t the rest of them just give them a _break_?

At least he was almost done. He had finished up his Herbology project earlier in the day and had spent the past several hours working on his Transfiguration essay (a whole 24 inches- Draco wanted to know who the _hell_ pissed off McGonagall that day), and all he had left to do was edit and rewrite his potions essay. He could also study a bit more for his Herbology quiz, but he wasn’t too worried about it.

The essay normally wouldn’t be so bad, but he rushed to finish his first draft before Quidditch practice at the end of last week, so he really had to scrap it and start all over. He had worked on it since then, but it still just wasn’t tight.

He groaned and put his head in his hands, gripping his hair as he tried to think. His head hurt from all the work he had been doing, his eyes were sore from reading his textbooks, and his stomach was growling because he had skipped dinner so that he could get it all done and still manage a good night’s sleep.

He never got that good night’s sleep.

“Why weren’t you at dinner?”

He looked up and his frizzy-haired best friend was looking down at him, arms crossed, a disapproving look on her face.

“There was _no_ way I was going to be able to get all of this done if I had gone to the Great Hall,” he argued as Pince shot a glare their way and told them to be quiet.

She sat down next to him, snatching the parchment out of his hands.

“Hey-”

“Busy doing what?” She asked. “I know you’ve already done everything that is due tomorrow.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I already wrote all my _first_ drafts. I still have to edit them and fix them.”

“You said you had already edited them-”

“I am just doing it again, they still weren’t great-”

“ _Twice._ ” She finished.

He sighed, not saying anything, just staring at her as she read through his potions essay. “I haven’t even begun marking that one-”

“Good, don’t.” She said, thrusting the parchment back at him as she closed all the books around him. “It’s perfectly fine. Besides, you’re Snape’s favorite student, it’s not like he’ll give you a bad grade on anything.”

He glared at her. “ _It’s fine,_ says the one who came for _my_ help on her Potions essay! And I _earn_ my grades in that class-”

“I never said you didn’t!” She said, raising her hands defensively as Pince shushed them again. “I’m just saying that he has a soft spot for you.”

Draco rolled his eyes again. Snape didn’t have a _soft spot_ for _anyone._ “What do you want?”

She looked surprised. “What? I don’t want anything-”

“You know I am not an idiot, Hermione. You are the only one who actually understands me being in the library at every waking hour, so what do you want? Why do you suddenly think I should take a break? You know how important my schoolwork and grades are to me.”

She opened her mouth and immediately closed it, like she couldn’t find the right words to say. Draco imagined that she was going through every possible excuse she could make up in her mind, realizing that he wasn’t going to fall for any of them. “It just feels like you’re avoiding something. Or _someone._ ”

Him? Avoiding someone? He would _never._

“I do not know what you are talking about.” He said without looking her in the eyes, opening one of the books she had just closed.

Hermione reached out and slammed the book closed again, almost catching his fingers in between the pages.

“Draco, it’s Halloween. You’re not locking yourself in the library redoing work you finished on Tuesday because you don’t want to socialize.”

He had honestly forgotten that tonight was Halloween. He really did, but he wasn’t going to tell Hermione that, as he didn’t think that she would believe him.

And she was right, he had already rewritten everything on Tuesday. But after taking one glance at his Transfiguration essay, he knew that he had to do it again. He was sure that he would get by just fine on his Potions essay without rewriting it one more time, but he was in a mood where he _wanted_ to lock himself up and throw himself into his own bubble of academia and not have to deal with anything around him. 

“You should really go to the party tonight.”

Right. The infamous Gryffindor Halloween party, where the fifth, sixth, and seventh years (with the occasional fourth year or two sneaking in) would stay up all night, blasting music, getting themselves embarrassingly drunk whilst all the prefects and professors turned a blind eye.

“Yeah, giving myself alcohol poisoning really sounds like my idea of a great time,” he rolled his eyes, lowering his voice, “and should you really be talking about this here?”

“It’s not like the teachers care,” she said “and you don’t have to drink, you know that. Plenty of people don’t and just go to hang out with their friends. Does that really sound so bad?”

“Fine. I don’t think that getting thrown up on by a drunk teenager sounds like my idea of fun.”

“Please,” she begged, even tugging on the sleeve of his robe. “Just come for an hour. I won’t be drinking, and you can stick to my side all night, I promise I won’t abandon you.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “because that doesn’t make me sound like a loser at all.”

“You would be more of a loser if you didn’t show up at all.”

She was right. But why did he care? The whole school already thought he was a loser for the past god knows however many years, so why did he have to change that now?

But part of him really didn’t want to be up all night doing homework.

“Fine. One hour.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Hermione had broken her promise.

Draco didn’t think she had done it on purpose. One minute he was standing right next to her, and the next she was gone. It wasn’t her fault, she probably turned around to say hi to someone while some else had slipped in between them, separating them and pushing them into opposite directions of the crowd.

Draco had never been in a crowd like this before. There was someone pushed up against him on all sides. How were there even this many Gryffindor students, let alone upperclassmen? Soon he realized that it wasn’t just the Gryffindors that were in the common room, but there were Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and even a few Slytherins.

Draco felt like he couldn’t breathe. When did the common room get so small? 

He pushed himself away from the center of the room. Maybe that would help. 

But all along the walls and all over the couches were couples pressed _way_ too close together, and Draco averted his eyes.

_I should just go up to my room and call it a night._

He was on his way over to the dormitory, about to go up the stairs, when a group of boys came barreling down.

“Draco! I didn’t think you would show up!” Neville seemed surprised, yet happy, to see him, which put a smile on his face. 

“Yeah, uh, Hermione kinda made me. I lost her though, I don’t know where she has gone off to.” He was glad he had found Neville, and from the looks of it, it seemed like he was staying sober, so at least he could _talk_ to someone. 

“Malfoy? Here? I thought I would never see th’day!” Ron laughed and came over to him, throwing his arm around Draco’s shoulder. “So, who are you, _really_? Under all that polyjuice?”

Harry thought this was hilarious, as he was doubled over with laughter. Draco was annoyed. Annoyed at how the two of them could be so irresponsible, annoyed at how Ron had called him _Malfoy,_ annoyed at how they were making fun of him.

“How is it that the two of you are already drunk?” They were _fifteen_ for crying out loud.

“I’m not _that_ drunk-” Ron said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask, pointing it at Draco. “Why, d’ya want some?”

“Ron,” Neville started.

“Are you serious right now?” Draco pushed it away from him. “We have a Herbology test first thing in the morning! What would Hermione say?”

“‘Mione will be mad at us no matter what,” Harry slurred as he took the flask from Ron. “You two are similar in that way.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “At least I _have_ a reason to be mad at you-”

“Whatever happened to _trying to be civil_?” Harry narrowed his eyes as Draco rolled his.

“And whatever happened to _not_ trying to pick a fight with me every time we speak?”

Ron took the flask and pushed it at Draco.

“Ron, leave him alone, he doesn’t want to.”

 _Thank you, Neville. I don’t deserve you._ He sent him a sympathetic look.

“You need to calm down, mate. C’mon. Jus’ a swig won’t hurt, right?”

He should have said no. Why couldn’t he say no? He wanted to. 

But he didn’t. Maybe it was because Ron was right, he needed to calm down. He was too tense, too stressed from studying and from being in a hot crowded room. Maybe it was because he wanted to try it, just to know what it felt like. He had never really been reckless before in his life. Maybe he should give it a shot? Maybe it was because he didn’t want people to keep thinking he was some pathetic loser. Or maybe it was because Harry still hadn’t taken his eyes off Draco since he had come down the stairs, and he didn’t want _Harry_ to keep thinking he was some pathetic loser.

It wasn’t as bad as he thought. He didn’t gag or spit it out. He felt the warmth in his throat, the magic of the firewhiskey spreading through him. 

Ron patted him on the back, just a little too hard, causing him to wince. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Ron, that’s enough-”

“C’mon have another! On me!”

The night started to go along a lot quicker at that point.

Draco hadn’t necessarily gone overboard, but it was enough for him to let down his guard. He wasn’t jumping away and revolting at every touch of human skin, he didn’t feel claustrophobic in the crowd anymore, and his signature scowl had been replaced on his face by a slight smirk.

He had even _danced._ And he could’ve sworn that the seventh year Ravenclaw boy had been looking at Draco the same way that Draco had been looking at him.

He was currently on one of the couches in front of the fireplace, one of the few spots that wasn’t too crowded but wasn’t occupied by a bunch of overly horny teenagers. He was on the couch between Ron and Harry, surrounded by the rest of the fifth year Gryffindor boys, the Weasley twins, and a few Hufflepuff girls. He tried to ignore what felt like electricity on his right arm, the side Harry was on.

“Let’s play a drinking game,” someone had suggested, Draco couldn’t tell who. The idea was met with a wave of enthusiasm, with some “oohs” and “aahs.”

“Like spin the bottle?” Draco suggested, just as some Ravenclaws had decided to come over.

“What? No, no one actually plays that. Other than first years,” one of the Hufflepuff girls scoffed.

Draco felt heat rise to his cheeks as he whispered “oh.” Harry giggled beside him, Draco feeling his body move with his laughs against him.

He had missed the name of the game, and all of the rules, too. Where had his mind been? 

Draco thought that he would pick up the rules as he went along, but he couldn’t wrap his head around them. He wasn’t the only one, as there were several people who were _far_ more intoxicated than he was, but he was still embarrassed.

“Merlin, Malfoy, you’re absolute _shit_ at this.” Harry laughed as he collected the magical deck of cards and spelled them to reshuffle them.

“So, back to last names, huh?” He frowned as he stared at his empty cup, sighing when Ron filled it back up. He wasn’t so sure that he wanted to keep playing, let alone keep drinking.

“Hey,” he lowered his voice and nudged Draco with his elbow. “I was only kidding, yeah?” 

Draco looked up and saw a smile on his face. “Oh.”

“ _Oh._ You’re so oblivious sometimes. It’s hilarious,” he chuckled as he dealt out the cards. “That was also a joke, if you didn’t catch that one.”

“Oh, sod off, four eyes.” He rolled his eyes as he picked up his cards, smiling to himself. 

Harry laughed as he picked up his own cards. “Wow, you really got me there. How can I ever recover from such a harsh, original insult?”

Draco laughed as he nudged Harry back. “Shut up.”

Draco still couldn’t figure out how to play the game, but he had the sense that Harry and Ron were ganging up on him, as the two of them kept piling their cards on top of him, giggling like they were the Hufflepuff girls whenever they did so. Draco was also fully aware that he had lost, as he had already gone through the cup that Ron had just poured him.

“I think I’m going to sit out and jus’ watch on this one, actually,” Draco slurred when Ron had asked Draco if he wanted another cup. He didn’t like how he was beginning to lose control over the words that came out of his mouth, and he didn’t like the way his head was beginning to spin.

“Yeah, I would stop too if I were playing as poorly as you were,” Seamus had called out to him. When the hell did he start becoming friends with _Seamus?_

“Merlin, you think he’d catch on by now!” Ron bellowed, laughing too hard at himself.

“It’s not fair!” Draco protesting. “The two of you were ganging up on me!”

“Ah, so he’s _not_ an idiot!” Harry laughed, and Draco had laughed alongside him.

Maybe it was just the alcohol, but maybe things were finally changing. Draco thought it was nice, being able to sit and laugh alongside Harry, teasing each other playfully while Ron preceded to do something stupid. It was much better than shoving each other up against walls and throwing punches and breaking noses.

Maybe it was just the alcohol, but maybe he was starting to finally feel comfortable around other people. He felt that he could smile, he could joke, without fear of being shut down. He was able to _let_ other people close to him. And he was feeling that other people were comfortable with him being around, too.

It was nice, not having to keep his guard up all the time.

He continued to watch as the people around him got drunker and drunker. He found it amusing, watching them do all the things they wanted to do and say all the things they wanted to say when they were sober but didn’t have the guts to do.

He was glad that he had cut himself off. He enjoyed his light buzz, but he did _not_ want to end up like that. He was perfectly content with sitting back and watching the world happen around him. He tried to pick up the rules of the game, but every time he thought he understood, something would happen that would ruin all understanding that he had.

Harry had teased Draco every time it happened, and Draco would shoot a witty insult right back at him. Their conversation felt natural, like they had been best mates for years and they could do this for hours.

“Oh, you should play your Jack now, right?” Draco said as he watched over Harry’s shoulder, his chin just barely an inch from Harry’s neck.

Harry groaned and threw his hands up in the air. “Goddammit, Malfoy! Thanks for giving away my hand!” He played an eight, so obviously Draco was wrong.

“Well, thanks fo’ that, mate!” Ron called out excitedly and played a Queen, causing Harry to groan in frustration once again and take a sip from his cup.

Yeah, Draco still had no idea how this game worked.

Something did dawn on him, though. “Wait,” he yelled, trying to find the right words. “The two of you were ganging up on me because you could see the cards that I had!”

“And that’s three drinks for everyone!” Fred called out, causing everyone to groan. _Apparently_ they had created a side game where everyone drinks once when Draco figures out something about the game, and twice if Draco thinks he figured something out but he’s wrong.

Ron threw an arm around Draco and shook his shoulder. “But look! He’s _learning!_ I’m so proud!”

At some point, everyone had thrown in their cards and given up on the game. Draco was leaning back on the couch, relaxed, while Ron and Harry were in an intense debate over something about Quidditch, probably about how Ron’s favorite team was absolute horse shit.

Draco was happy to be there.

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione yelled as she finally caught up with them.

“Oh shit, here we go,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“You have a Herbology test tomorrow morning-”

“I told you so.” Harry stepped on Draco’s foot for his comment.

“-and look at you! I can’t even _begin_ to explain how bloody stupid you are!”

Ron’s face went red. “I just dunno why she’s picking on _me_ ,” he whispered to Draco and Harry.

Draco did feel bad for him, as Hermione was definitely singling him out. Sure, the rest of them really weren’t as bad, but they sort of were in the same boat.

“Thank _Merlin_ you’re finally here though,” Harry said, trying to ease the conversation off Ron, who gave him a thankful look. “Draco’s been asking about you _all_ night.”

Hermione blushed as Draco shot him an evil eye.

“Yeah, whatever happened to _I promise I won’t abandon you_ , huh?” Draco tried to come off as playful and joking as he had been with Harry, but it came off bitter and cold. Part of him was bitter, though, as she had broken a promise.

She scratched the bag of her neck. “I, uh, got a little sidetracked.”

Draco rolled his eyes when Harry spoke up again. “You should have heard him, ‘Mione. He wouldn’t _shut up_ about you for the first thirty minutes! _Where’s Hermione? Where’s Hermione?_ Sounds like he’s got a big fat crush on you!”

Draco laughed. He found the entire concept absolutely _absurd._ It was the second time someone had accused them of having some sort of romantic relationship. “No,” he said as he finally stopped laughing, “our relationship is _purely academic_ right?”

“I thought we were over this!” She groaned.

“No, you’re right. It’s just that, no offense,” he paused, “you’re really not my type.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. 

“Are you really upset at me right now?”

If the rest of Gryffindor wasn’t listening in on their conversation, they were now.

“No!” She laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s just that you called me unattractive, that’s all-”

“I just said you weren’t my type!” He argued.

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms again. “Then what _is_ your type?”

His eyes found his way across the room, locking onto the seventh year Ravenclaw boy whom he had danced with earlier. “Preferably with a penis.”

_He did not just say that._

Ron started absolutely _howling_ with laughter beside him. He felt his stomach drop. He didn’t know how to feel about this, and he definitely should _not_ have said that.

“Ronald!” Hermione yelled, slapping Ron’s shoulder. “It’s not funny!”

“He- he-” he choked out between fits of laughter “-with a _penis!”_ He yelled, sending himself into another uncontrollable fit of laughter. He could’ve sworn that he heard Harry briefly chuckle beside him.

Draco felt sick, and it wasn’t from the firewhiskey. He had worked _so hard_ to build himself back up this year. He worked so hard to come out of his shell, to make friends, and to repair his relationships with his enemies. Here he was, finally comfortable around people, finally comfortable to let all his walls come crumbling down, and Draco had gone and thrown that all away just four words.

He wanted to run upstairs and hide and cry and cry and cry until he could cry no more.

“No, mate, there’s nothing wrong with that,” he said as he finally took control over himself. “No, Draco, I’m sorry I laughed like that. None of us here really give a shit about stuff like that.” 

Ron reached out and placed his hand on Draco’s shoulder. “I _promise_.” 

_I already had one promise broken to me tonight, what’s the harm in another?_ Draco though.

“I just, you had to say it in th’goddamn _funniest-_ ” he sent himself into another uncontrollable fit of laughter. 

“Ron, I think it’s time you ought to go to bed,” Hermione said gently, trying to get him off the couch and away from Draco. Ron argued with her, but eventually gave in, miraculously standing up.

“Draco, he really thinks that there’s nothing wrong with you being gay,” she reassured him. “I swear, we all do. It really doesn’t matter to us, and we will support you no matter what, okay? Besides, I’m glad you told us,” she smiled, “maybe now they’ll stop trying to get us together.”

Draco managed to give a soft smile in return. “Yeah, I guess.” He couldn’t bring himself to fully believe them.

She sighed, giving him a light hug before helping Ron across the common room.

The party had died down, the other houses slowly retreating to their respectable common rooms as the Gryffindors made their way into their dormitories. All the people playing cards had left, and although there were still a few people milling around the common room with faint music still playing in the background, Harry and Draco were the only ones left in front of the fireplace.

Draco gave an awkward cough and moved away from Harry so that they were no longer pushed up against each other, now that they had more space.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Really, Draco, it’s not a big deal.”

Draco bit the inside of his cheek as a billion thoughts raced through his head all at once. Why were they being so supportive? They were making it into a bigger deal than it needed to be, really. Was one of _them_ gay? No, he shook that thought out of his mind very quickly. “Well, you guys are kinda making it into one.”

“Only because if we didn’t, you’d go lock yourself in the library for the rest of the term thinking we all hated you.” He said, slurring his words ever so slightly. Great, he was still a little drunk, too. Harry had a point, but Draco wasn’t going to admit it. “Merlin, Draco, we’re your _friends_.”

“Are we, though?” He asked. “This is the first night we’ve socialized without fighting. Can you really call that _friendship_?”

His gaze fell as he stared at his feet, mumbling something under his breath, but something Draco assumed to be along the lines of “I want it to be.”

Draco sighed. “I’m sorry, I should really be heading to bed-”

“Wait!” Harry interrupted him. “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you all night.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You _have_ been talking to me all night, Potter.”

“I meant alone.” He said, staring into Draco’s eyes. Draco quickly looked away, not liking the feeling in his stomach. “I want to apologize.”

Draco blinked blankly at him.

Harry sighed before continuing. “I thought about what you had said. And you are right, maybe all we need is time. But we’ve _had_ time. It’s been _years_ of all of this stupid fighting. And for what? I’m sick of it. I’ve spent my time hating you, and you’ve spent your time hating me, and I think we’ve both had enough of it.”

“I’m sorry that I hated you, but you have to look at it from my perspective. I don’t really know how much you know about this, but I live with Muggles. I was raised without any knowledge of magic until I was eleven years old, and you were my first wizarding friend and all of a sudden you turned around and shit on it. That, and you bullied me. I know you stopped after first year, and I should have let go when you did, but I didn’t. I was stubborn, arrogant, and selfish. And I am _sorry._ ”

“Then you show up this year and everything has changed. Suddenly you were everywhere, hanging out in the common room instead of the library, becoming friends with Hermione, and joining Quidditch. And I was _angry_ about it. I don’t know why, and it’s not your fault, and I hated you for absolutely no reason at all and I am _sorry._ I am angry all the time and something has changed in the last year and I don’t know why but I’m just so goddamn _angry_ all the time and I can’t control it!”

He paused, taking a deep breath after working himself up. Draco wanted to say something in return, but every time he went to say something, the words would slip out of his mind.

Harry continued. “But that’s not an excuse. It’s really no excuse for me treating you so harshly and being so hostile. I’m sorry I punched your nose. And then all of a sudden you were so caring and _nurturing_ when you found out about Umbridge, and I was just so confused. And then you went and had a panic attack over it and all I could feel was guilt. You helped us with the DA and somewhere in those few days, I had realized how much you’ve changed. And I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize it, I should have been your friend right alongside Hermione from the beginning, but I was stuck in my old ways like the arrogant bastard and I am _sorry._ ”

“I really do enjoy my time with you. I’ve had a great time with you tonight, and I had a great time in Diagon Alley when it was the two of us just talking about Quidditch. I want to be good friends with you, I really do, but I’ve gone and made it so hard for myself to realize that and I’ve made it so hard for you to like me and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the emotional distress I’ve caused you along the way, and I just want it to be over. I know it just can’t simply _be over,_ and that’s mostly on me, and I’m sorry. But I _really_ want it to be.”

Draco was stunned. He was only expecting Harry to apologize for breaking his nose, but no, he had gone all the way back to the beginning and apologized for every single thing that he had done to Draco, and he was _genuine_ about it all.

And it hurt, because Draco knew that he had hurt Harry, too. He knew that he had been in the wrong, that he had a strong part in them not being able to be friends, but Harry was sitting here and taking all of the blame.

He didn’t know why Harry was doing this. Draco had gone off on him in Hog’s Head, sure, but Draco still had so much to apologize for on his end and he didn’t know where it was all coming from. Maybe it was because they had spent all night together, or that he was drunk and rambling and just not thinking about what he was saying.

“I- I don’t know what to say-”

“Then don’t” Harry cut him off. “You don’t have to say anything, it’s fine.”

“But It’s really not, I’m sor-”

“ _Don’t_ apologize,” Harry said as he moved closer, cupping his hand against the side of Draco's face, practically grabbing his jaw. There was a dark look in his eyes, his voice stern and almost a growl. Maybe Harry was a bit more drunk than Draco had thought. “Please," he pleaded, lowering his voice to barely a whisper, "just think about everything I’ve said, alright? You don’t have to say anything right now, I, I just want you to think about it.”

 _I just want you to think about me,_ is what Draco wished he would have said. 

They went to bed, and Draco never stopped thinking about what he said. Not that night, not that week, not that month. Not ever.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter, I've had this scene stuck in my head since I first fully planned out this fic. It didn't come out the way I wanted at first, but I think I finally did it justice in the end!
> 
> Thanks so much for all of you who continue to support this story, it means so much to me! I'm glad you're enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it! See you all next Sunday <3

Harry was all Draco could think about all of Friday.

Harry had told him to think about what he had said, but Draco couldn’t stop thinking about what he  _ did.  _ He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Harry had grabbed the side of his face and stared into his eyes as he spoke, butterflies erupting in his stomach every time he imagined a pair of deep green eyes staring into his own.

Oh, this was not good. This was not good at  _ all.  _

He tried to focus on what Harry had said, but he had said so much that he couldn’t remember every detail. Part of him wished Harry had written it all down, so that Draco could sit there and read every line over and over again, so that he could pick apart his words and read between the lines and try to figure out  _ why  _ Harry acted the way he did, and why he had done it so suddenly.

But no, that would just make things worse. He knew it would fuel his newfound obsession even more, and he would be in deeper than he already was.

He tried to shake the thoughts out of his mind by thinking about the Ravenclaw boy who had danced with him. Yes, that helped. What was his name, Collin? Caleb? Chris? It didn’t matter, it’s not like the rest of the school was jumping at every chance to befriend the boy who no one really cared for. 

Speaking of friends, that had to be it. Yes, that’s all it was, Draco was polluting his mind with false hopes and dreams that would never become true because there was no way in heaven or hell that Harry James Potter was a homosexual.

Harry had apologized for the sake of their friendship. After all, that was what he said, wasn’t it? That he should have been his friend right alongside Hermione, that he was stuck in his old ways for too long and too angry to see that there was nothing wrong with their friendship. But why didn’t he want Draco to say anything? Why was he asking him to sit there and think about what he said?

Maybe it was because he was embarrassed, or drunk, or both. But the next day at breakfast, when he expected Harry to skip his meal or avoid eye contact or  _ something,  _ the opposite was true. They had a lighthearted, friendly, playful conversation, just as they had when they were playing cards, like they had been best mates for years. Harry seemed like he had a weight that was lifted off his chest, and that he could be free and he could be himself around Draco and not have to worry about breaking into a fight and making Hermione upset.

And it left Draco completely and utterly  _ confused. _

Between spending his entire day mulling over Harry’s intentions and his hangover, Draco wanted nothing more than for his head to stop pounding.

He was afraid that when he woke up on Saturday morning it would still be there. 

Draco could hardly sleep Friday night. 

He had planned to sleep in all morning, as the match wasn’t until two in the afternoon. He needed to catch up on all the sleep that he had missed on Halloween. But he dreamt that he had slept all day, that no one was able to wake him up until after the Quidditch game, and they had all lost because of him.

So when he woke up at about four in the morning, thankfully without his hangover, his body would  _ not  _ allow him to go back to sleep.

He decided to start the day early, getting a cold shower in to distract him, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the game, of everything that could go wrong. He could miss every goal he tried for. He could get the quaffle taken from him every time that he had it. He could fall off his broom and become the laughing stock of the entire school.

The list went on and on, and his anxieties didn’t fade away, not when he tried to calm down in the shower, not when he curled up next to the fire with a good book and his cat, not until he was eating breakfast in the great hall for the match.

“I really think I should just quit now. Take my name off the list, put Ginny in instead of me,” he mumbled as he pushed his food around his plate with his fork, unable to stomach any food.

“Don’t say that,” Hermione said, “You’re going to do great.”

Draco didn’t believe her.

“No matter what happens out there today, I just want to say that I am  _ so  _ proud of all of you for the tremendous work you’ve put in to start the season,” Angelina told them in the locker room. They were circled around her, all on one knee, listening to her final words to them before they walked out onto the pitch. “I just want you all to  _ focus  _ today. If you go out there with the mindset of winning or losing, we are going to lose. This is  _ just another practice.  _ Don’t try to be a hero, don’t try something you’ve never attempted in practice before. Stick to what you’re good at, and we’re sure to have a great game.”

Draco followed the rest of the team out onto the pitch, making sure to stay at the back of the group, trying to make himself hide and blend in. He had spent the past five years invisible, hiding in the shadows, out of the spotlight.

He stepped onto the field and immediately mounted his broom, starting the team laps around the pitch. This was different from practice, different from tryouts. Yes, he had flown for an audience before, but never one of  _ this  _ size. The last time he had this many eyes on him was when he was a first year, when he had walked into Hogwarts for the first time and the sorting hat had been placed on his head.

Draco shook the thought out of his mind, trying to calm down and forget about the number of eyes on him. He was a relatively calm flyer, that was one of the things that he loved the most about flying. Flying would always allow him to calm his nerves, to push everything away from him, but it was impossible to do that now.

Madam Hooch had blown the whistle for everyone to get into their starting positions. Draco stood on the outside of the circle, opposite Alicia, with Angelina in the middle taking the face off.

Angelina shook hands with the Hufflepuff captain as Hooch put one hand on the ball box and one hand on her whistle. “I shouldn’t have to say this before every match, but I will. I want a nice, clean,  _ fair  _ game, alright?” Everyone nodded, their eyes locked on the box. “Alright, on my mark, one, two,” and on three, she blew the whistle as she opened the box. 

Draco kicked off the ground, nudging the Hufflepuff beside him out of his way. He flew up and towards the Hufflepuff goals, as Angelina shot straight up and grabbed the quaffle, sending it immediately towards Alicia.

_ Just like in practice. This is just like practice, you can do it,  _ he thought as he ran the drill through his head. Alicia threw the ball up to Draco, as Angelina rocketed towards the goal, Draco sending it back to her. She sped towards the center goal, while Draco took the left and Alicia took the right. She didn’t need to pass it to either of them, however, as she had outflown everyone and shot the ball into the goal before a bludger had even come anywhere near her.

Draco and Alicia bumped their broomsticks against Angelina’s as the crowd went wild, Lee Jordan’s overly enthusiastic voice booming over the speakers. The two girls were smiling, and Draco couldn’t help but do the same.

All the rough nights, all the brutal flying drills, were worth it for moments like these. He felt his worries ease away as he watched the scoreboard change to 10-0. He found Hermione in the crowd, next to Neville and Luna, who all immediately caught Draco’s eyes and gave him excited waves.

Draco was determined to make his house proud.

The Hufflepuff keeper had the quaffle in his hands, ready to find an open Chaser to send the ball to. Draco caught his eye, he was looking straight at the chaser just ahead of him. As the quaffle flew out of his hands, Draco sped up to the chaser. The second he had caught the ball, Draco ripped it right out of his hands and passed it to Angelina, who scored another successful goal.

It became routine, Draco would target the opposite chaser, steal the ball, and pass it to either Angeline or Alicia who worked in masterful ways to weave in and out of the defense and trick the keeper. Draco managed to score a goal here and there, but he would mostly work the plays and try to keep the ball away from the other team as much as he could.

Draco had become so focused on the game that he had lost track of the score, but by the way that they were playing, he was sure that they were winning. By a lot.

And sure enough, he took a glance at the scoreboard and read 200-20.

_ Two hundred points?  _ He didn’t think that he had seen any team score that many points without catching the snitch during his time at Hogwarts. If they kept playing the way that they were, it wouldn’t even matter if Harry was able to catch the snitch or not.

Where was Harry?

Draco hadn’t seen him since he had kicked off at the beginning of the game, and he quickly scanned the sky. There he was, sitting above the Hufflepuff student section, not too far from Draco. His eyes were darting around, trying to find the golden yellow ball. But he managed to miss the bludger that was headed directly towards his back.

Fred darted towards Harry, yelling at him to duck, but it had been too late. The bludger smashed into the tail of Harry’s broom, causing it to snap in half, and causing Harry to fall.

_ Fuck. _

The entire Gryffindor team heard the crack and snapped their heads towards Harry as he fell out of the sky, Fred and George already darting towards him.  _ They weren’t going to make it. _

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck. _

Draco dropped the quaffle and dove, flying faster than he ever had before, harder than he ever had before. Harry was falling faster and faster, picking up momentum as he fell. He was falling faster than his broom, and there was no way that he was going to be able to save himself.

Draco dove even faster, the rest of the Gryffindor team dropping their bats and balls and doing the same as him. Even if  _ he  _ wasn’t going to make it, Draco hoped that someone was going to be able to catch him. George was almost there, he reached out his hand as he positioned himself under Harry, but something had gone wrong. He had missed, or his grip wasn’t tight enough, Draco couldn’t tell, but Harry was still falling.

Draco was getting close. He was almost there, he could see the spot where he and Harry were going to meet, dangerously close to the ground, but it was his best bet at catching him. They were getting closer and closer, only feet apart now, Harry falling faster and faster, until,

Draco wrapped his arm around Harry’s, the sudden force causing his broom to lurch downwards. Draco was going to be  _ damned  _ if his hand slipped, so he grabbed Harry’s arm with his other hand as he slowed his broom down to a halt, hovering in midair with Harry dangling below him.

Draco pulled Harry up, as Harry swung his leg over Draco’s broom, mounting it from behind him. They were both breathing heavily, Draco from flying harder than he ever had before, and Harry presumably from the adrenaline rush of nearly falling to his death.

“Are you hurt?” Draco finally managed to say once the crowd had stopped roaring. The rest of the team, after seeing that Harry was safely situated on a broom, went back to stop Hufflepuff from catching up.

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said in his ear. “It’s too late in the game for me to call for a sub-”

“I said, are you hurt?” Draco snarled back. If Harry was hurt, Draco was going to get him to the hospital wing  _ immediately.  _ He wasn’t going to let this idiot die from an untreated injury just because he didn’t want the team to be without a seeker.

“Not really-”

“Not  _ really _ ?” Draco questioned.

“No-”

“Harry James Potter, if you are lying to me I swear to God I will fly your ass to St. Mungo’s this  _ instant _ .” He threatened, and Harry sighed behind him.

“I mean, my arm feels a little bit funny, I think I just scratched it, I can’t tell through my robe. But the bludger didn’t hit me!” He yelled over Draco when he almost interrupted him. “The bludger didn’t hit me, I swear. I’m sure it was just a scratch from my broom.”

_ Just a scratch from my broom, my ass _ , Draco thought, but there was no use in arguing with a stubborn Harry. 

“Are you okay if I start flying?” Draco asked.

He felt Harry nod against his shoulder as he moved closer and wrapped his arms tight around Draco’s waist.  _ I want you to think of me- _

No, this was  _ not  _ going to happen now. Draco started flying, leaving the thoughts behind him as he slowly picked up speed to get Harry comfortable with getting to full speed on the back of someone else’s broom.

“Draco?” He asked. “How are you going to be able to score with me on your back?”

Draco chuckled. He sent a nod towards Angelina, mouthing  _ I’ve got this.  _ She flew off, understanding what he was about to do.“I don’t really think that’s going to be an issue right now.”

The score was 220-30.

“Oh,” Harry whispered.

“Oh, indeed.” He laughed, “you are welcome.” He wasn’t  _ planning  _ on taking all the credit for their score, but was Draco really going to pass up an opportunity to brag?

“Okay, I need you to listen to me Harry, and I need you to listen to me very carefully,” he started.

“Why do I feel you’re about to do something reckless and insane?”

He rolled his eyes. “I need you to listen  _ without interrupting. _ ” He snarled, expecting a snarky response in return, but was met with pleasant silence. He picked up his flying pace, his eyes beginning to dart around the pitch as he climbed to get a better look. “You have to catch the snitch, it’s the rules. The rest of us aren’t allowed to  _ touch  _ it, and as you said, it’s too late in the game for you to get a substitute-”

“You’re insane. No.”

“Yes,” he said back, “and remember the  _ no interrupting  _ part? As I was saying, you have to catch the snitch, and you have to do it from the back of my broom.”

“What? Draco, you’re cra-”

He was cut off when Draco made a sudden dive, Harry’s arms wrapping around his waist even tighter, his heart suddenly pumping  _ much  _ faster. He had seen a golden glimmer down below, near where the grass met the wall of the pitch, and dived lower to get a better glimpse. As they plummeted, he heard Harry gasp, and he knew that he had seen it too.

“Shouldn’t I be on the front of the broom so I can catch the snitch?” Harry yelled over the roaring wind.

“If you do that I won’t be able to see where I’m going, dipshit.” He yelled back.

“Then let me take over the broom!”

“With your arm? You would have to be insane! Don’t you dare believe for a  _ second  _ that your arm is just  _ scratched-  _ hold on!” He yelled as he dodged a bludger that was heading right towards him.

“I didn’t see that coming-”

“Yeah, and you didn’t see the first one coming, either!” He yelled. “And you  _ wonder  _ why I won’t let you fly.” He was met with silence as he pushed the broom faster. Between the bludger and their conversation, he had lost sight of the snitch but then spotted it off hovering above the professor’s stands. Unfortunately for them, the Hufflepuff seeker had spotted it too.

Draco quickly glances at the scoreboard.  _ 240-70.  _ Hufflepuff was slowly creeping back up, their 200 point lead had fallen to only 170 points. By the time someone caught the snitch, he wasn’t completely sure they would still have enough points to win by default.

“If you’re on the front, how am I going to catch the snitch?” Harry shouted. “Hufflepuff will be closer to it than I am!”

“Easy, I just have to be the faster flier,” Draco smirked as he sped up, hugging the wall as he chased the snitch around the turn of the pitch. He was met with silence from Harry. “What, you’re not  _ doubting  _ my abilities, Potter?”

“Just shut up and fly faster!”

So he did.

He scooted as far forward on his broom as he could without toppling over. The snitch wasn’t getting away from him now, they were too close to lose sight of it. They were neck and neck with the Hufflepuff seeker, which would normally be fine, but with Harry being on the backside of the broom, Draco pushed harder and harder every time he caught up with them. 

“I’m almost there!” Harry yelled. His fingers were inches from the snitch, further than Hufflepuff’s but every time Draco pushed himself to go faster, so did the snitch. “I’m going to jump!”

“Wha-” before Draco could protest, the idiot had actually jumped off his moving broom. Granted, they were only a foot or two off the ground, but Draco was at  _ top speed. _

Draco halted his broom, holding his breath as he watched Harry tumble on the ground. Draco cautiously touched down to the ground. His eyes darted around for the snitch, but couldn’t find it, meaning one of the two seekers was holding it in their hands.

Harry had stopped rolling and sat up. Draco watched as a smile crept its way onto Harry’s face as he lifted his hand in the air, opening his fingers to reveal the golden snitch.

The roar from the crowd was deafening. Draco flung his broom to the ground and sprinted at Harry, tackling him in a hug. “You did it,” he said, his heart filling with joy.  _ He had won his Quidditch game.  _ “I can’t believe you actually did it, you reckless,  _ brilliant  _ bastard!”

Draco pulled away, Harry absolutely beaming as the rest of the team came flying and sprinting over to them. “And I couldn’t have done it without you being a reckless, brilliant bastard yourself.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Draco was the last one left in Harry’s hospital wing.

“I told you that you had more than just a scratch on your arm.” Draco crossed his arms as he glared at Harry, who rolled his eyes and laughed. “You shouldn’t be laughing at your injuries, Potter!”

To be fair, Harry had miraculously managed to only sprain his wrist when he was hit by the bludger earlier. It was once he jumped off Draco’s broom, however, that he had really injured himself, breaking three ribs. Draco felt bad for tackling him once he found out, but Harry said he was so full of adrenaline that he hadn’t even felt it in the moment.

“So we’re back to last names now,” he raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think that I missed you calling me Potter on the pitch, too.”

“I only say it when I am pissed at you.”

“Well, I’m pretty pissed at you too, you know,” Harry said, causing Draco’s heart to momentarily drop before he continued, “you should be out celebrating with the rest of the team. Go to the party, please. I’ll be fine on my own, I promise.”

The rest of the team, plus Hermione, had left to go back to the common room to celebrate the win. Madam Pomfrey had refused to release Harry from the hospital wing, as she wanted to make sure his bones grew back the right way.

“First of all, I am a prefect who should not be condoning such activities, and secondly, Halloween gave me enough partying to last a lifetime-”

“Loser,” Harry interrupted.

“-also,” he continued, “there is something I have been meaning to tell you.”

He looked down at his hands, playing with his nails. He had rehearsed his speech over and over in his head, many times, but suddenly his throat was dry and he couldn’t speak.

He looked back up at Harry, who was staring at him curiously. “Go on,” he said softly.

Draco took a deep breath. “I realized I never really apologized to you, it has come in bits and pieces alone the way, but it was never fully there. I was going around being angry at you for never saying you were fully sorry to me when I was the one who needed to say it.”

“That’s not true,” Harry said, “I told you, you don’t have to apologize for anything-”

“I do, okay?” He clenched and unclenched his hands in frustration. “Just, let me finish, okay? I just, I am sorry. This whole, having  _ friends  _ thing is very new to me and I just don’t know how to act, that isn’t an excuse for my behavior, I know. I spent so long trying to figure things out and I hurt everyone around me.”

“Draco, we know that you didn't mean to-”

“But I still did it!” He exclaimed, tears welling up in his eyes. Draco went back to staring at his hands. “I spent so much time worrying about Hermione that I didn’t worry about anyone else, and I spent so much time worrying about everyone else and I realized I should be spending more time worrying about  _ myself,  _ but in that process, I hurt everyone around me along the way. I really still don’t quite know what to do, and I am sorry for the damage that I have caused. I am sorry for how I have acted in the past and I am sorry for the way things have been going this year. But I am also scared, I’m scared of what’s going to happen in the future.”

“I realize I am not perfect, and I never will be. I know I’m still figuring things out, and I’m just scared that I will continue to hurt people, and I don’t want to.”

When Harry didn’t respond, Draco lifted his head to meet Harry’s eyes once more. “Is that all?”

Draco’s stomach dropped.  _ Was he being serious right now?  _ The nerve-

“Merlin, that was a joke!” Harry groaned, presumably once he saw the anger starting to cross Draco’s face. 

“Oh.”

Harry laughed, and Draco felt like an idiot. “Do you even understand sarcasm?”

“No,” Draco admitted, “I really don’t.”

“Wait, was that sarcastic-”

“No!” Draco picked up a pillow and whacked him on the shoulder with it as Harry laughed. “You know I have the bloody social skills of a four year old!”

“Well, it’s a good thing you have a few friends now to teach you-”

He whacked him on the shoulder again, this time as Draco laughed. “I am  _ not  _ your charity case! I can see The Prophet headlines now,  _ The Boy Who Lived Teaches Social Cues to Local Children.  _ Should I call Skeeter in now, or should I wait until you’ve recovered from your  _ heroic  _ quidditch injury?”

Harry laughed in return, prying the pillow from Draco’s hands and whacking him back. “So you admit it, then.” He said as he stopped laughing.

“What?”

“You admit it. Having friends. You think that we’re friends now.”

He smiled. “I mean, I did save your life and all, you kinda owe me-ouch!” He yelled as Harry whacked him on the shoulder again. “Okay, yes, I see us as friends, happy?”

“Yes.” He smiled.

“What?” 

“You asked if I was happy. I said yes.”

“You… you  _ want  _ to be my friend?” Draco didn’t realize why he was so shocked. They had been acting like friends for the past few days, hadn’t they? After the Halloween party, the two of them seemed to have broken each other’s walls and let the other in. So why did he seem so surprised?

Harry rolled his eyes. “And they call  _ me  _ oblivious! Of course-”

“Like I said, social cues-”

“Of  _ course  _ I want to be your friend.”

Draco smiled. In the past few days, he had smiled more times than he could count. They were real smiles, too, the kind that reached your eyes and spread across your entire face and made you feel like nothing else had mattered. Before this year, he couldn’t remember the last time he had a smile that made him feel so warm inside. And now, in the past few days, that had all changed, and he was sure that Harry had something to do with it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday everyone! This chapter is giving me ALL the feels, I hope you enjoy it! <3

“Thank you all for coming today.” Harry cleared his throat and spoke as he gazed around the room.

Two weeks had passed since their initial meeting in the Hog’s Head, and here they were, finally having their first, practical meeting. Everyone who had been at that meeting was sitting alongside him in the Room of Requirement. He was both relieved and worried that no one had dropped out. He didn’t know everyone there, so how was he supposed to know if he could trust his peers?

Umbridge had already disbanded all student organizations. What would the repercussions be for going behind Umbridge like this, for going behind the ministry? Would it be detention? Expulsion? Draco couldn’t afford to be expelled. Hogwarts had his home, he had nowhere else to go. What would he do, live on the streets?

He swallowed a gulp as Harry continued. “So, today, um,”

Draco shot a knowing smirk at Hermione, who returned with a glaring eye roll. “Are you sure he’s up for this?” He questioned.

“Just give him some time, Draco,” she whispered. “He just needs a minute or two to get comfortable.”

Draco sure hoped so. Harry’s nerves were not helping Draco feel any better.

“So today we are going to learn, or rather, practice two spells I’m sure most of you are familiar with. We’ll start with expelliarmus-”

Draco sneered as he cut him off. “Isn’t that some pansy-ass spell? You’re really going to waste our time with-”

“Thanks, Draco, for leading me into my first point.” He shot a sickly smile, and Draco kept his sneer plastered on his face. Could he be any more condescending? “First of all, I have literally used this against Voldemort himself a few months ago. But my point here is that you don’t need fancy, intricate spells to protect yourself. We all already have the skills to keep ourselves safe, we just have to learn how to use them the right way. It’s better to find one spell that you know that you can always turn to, that you can use without thinking, than to know twenty spells you haven’t yet mastered.”

His sneer fell as he realized Harry had a point. After a brief demonstration, he broke them off into pairs, Draco with Ginny. “I want you to practice with your partner to your comfort level. The point of this exercise is to get the wand movement and incantation as engraved into your mind as possible, so repetition is key.”

Draco and Ginny took turns going back and forth, each of them disarming the other. It wasn’t a particularly difficult spell, but Draco got exhausted easily. Their professors never had them practice a spell this many times in a row, and his head was starting to hurt.

“If you feel comfortable, instead of taking turns with your partner, see who can disarm the other faster. Speed can make all the difference in a real-life situation,” Harry called as he circled around the pairs, observing, stopping every now and then to correct someone or give advice.

“Scared, Draco?” Ginny smirked as they moved to an appropriate distance for their mini duel.

He scoffed. “Of you? Yeah, right.”

He should have been.

“Expel-

“Expelliarmus!” She shouted. She was quicker than him, stronger than him, and his wand flew ten feet away before he could even get the word out of his mouth.

“I, uh, I was not ready yet,” he mumbled, retrieving his wand as she smirked. “Okay, again. Expellia-”

“Expelliarmus!”

Draco swore as his wand flew out of his hand, yet again, flying further this time.

“You were better that time!” She said. “You got a few more syllables out before I disarmed you!” He wasn’t sure if she was complimenting him or mocking him.

“I think this is yours,” he turned around to see Harry smirking at him, Draco’s wand in his outstretched hand.

He sneered and grabbed it out of his hand. They set up again, Harry standing with his arms crossed behind Draco, watching them. He wasn’t going to mess up this time, not with Harry watching him. No, he was determined to finally get it right.

“E-”

“Expelliarmus!” His wand flew out of his hand, once again. This time it soared over to Ginny, who caught it midair.

“That was brilliant, Ginny!” Harry beamed, his face lighting up as he went to get Draco’s wand from her. She blushed.

Draco felt a pang of something in his chest. Sadness? Disappointment? Jealousy? Perhaps it was all three, sad that he couldn’t disarm a fourth-year girl, disappointed that he had done so in front of Harry, and jealous that Harry was giving Ginny all the praise. 

“Hey, don’t be discouraged. You were really good in practice,” Harry said as he came over to Draco, handing him his wand back. “Your grip is just too tight. Loosen your fingers, it will help you do the wand movement faster.”

“What? Are you saying I don’t know how to hold my own wand?” Draco ripped his wand out of Harry’s hand.

“No, that’s not what I was saying! You just need to relax. Show me how you would hold your wand, as if you were about to cast the spell.”

Draco did as he was told. He felt awkward as he shuffled his feet, just standing there.

“Relax-”

“I am relaxed!” He growled.

Harry sighed. “Here,” he softened his voice as he moved behind Draco. “First of all, you need to relax your shoulders.”

Draco felt his breathing stop as Harry gently placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder, pushing it down. 

“And second of all, you need to loosen your wand grip a bit. I would suggest,” he felt Harry place his other hand on top of Draco’s his fingers delicately, “loosening your thumb and middle finger just slightly, the rest of your fingers a little more.” His voice was barely a whisper, his mouth just inches from Draco’s ear, as he moved his fingers one by one.

“There, try it like that,” he said. Draco turned his head to look at Harry, who was staring into his eyes with a look that Draco couldn’t decipher, causing the knot in his stomach to erupt into butterflies.

_Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?_

“And remember to breathe,” he took a step away, Draco’s body screaming at the loss of contact, begging for Draco to reach out and touch him.

_Why is this happening to me?_

He tried to shake the thoughts out of his head, focusing on his grip. But all he could think about was Harry’s fingers intertwining with his, and-

_Stop it._

He took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders back. He was tensing up without even realizing it, and he had to focus to change the way his fingers around his wand.

“Ready?” Ginny called, and he nodded. 

“Expelliarmus!” He yelled before Ginny could even get a sound out. Her wand didn’t fly across the room, but he managed to be faster than her. Harry was right, relaxing had allowed him to move his wand much quicker. A smile started to make its way onto all three of their faces.

“Brilliant!” He yelled, tossing Ginny her wand. “Now focus on putting a little more power behind it. Try leaning into it a little, pulling the strength from your legs.”

He smiled at Draco before he left to help another pair, and that smile got him through the rest of the lesson.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“Now we let it simmer for, twelve minutes, correct?”

Draco rolled his eyes. He had been partnered with Harry for potions, so naturally, he had taken over and done almost all of the work. He let Harry have some fun, as he made him dice all the ingredients for him. “I think you should get your glasses checked. The board says twenty-four.”

“Oh, well I thought if we turn the heat up twice as hot then we could cut the time in half and leave class early.”

Draco nearly choked. “Do you _really_ think that’s how it works?”

Harry shrugged. “I guess I know nothing about potions, sorry I’m not a potioneer prodigy like you.”

“Seriously, Potter? Do you even realize how many potioneers you have in your bloodline? And you can’t even manage to muster up a simple wit-sharpening potion.”

“What are you on about, Malfoy?”

Draco gasped. “Do you seriously have no idea?” Harry shook his head. “Your grandfather invented Sleekeazy’s hair potion, you at least know that?”

“I mean, that’s just one person-”

“Just one person!” Draco scoffed. “Well, what about Linfred of Stinchcombe, the _founding patriarch_ of the Potter bloodline? He invented Skele-Gro and Pepperup Potion? He basically founded medicinal potions!”

“Well, clearly the gene skipped over me.” Harry rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed at Draco. 

“Mhm, you are just so special. You should take some of this wit-sharpening potion once _I_ do all the work to brew it. Maybe then you will grow that big brain of yours.” He teased back, trying to lighten the mood. He enjoyed teasing Harry, he liked getting a reaction out of him. But he didn’t like it when he cut himself off and didn’t play back.

“Thanks.”

“Did you know you are the first person born into the Potter line who is not a pureblood?”

“Does that matter to you?” He snapped. Apparently Draco had crossed a line.

“Of course it doesn’t, you know that,” he softened his voice. It really didn’t matter to him, _at all._ Over the past few years, Draco realized more and more that blood status was a social construct, that it had no role in a wizard’s magical abilities. He hated that he was spoon-fed all that crap for years. He didn’t know why he had even brought it up.

“Why is it that you know so much about my family?

Draco stuttered as he tried to defend himself. “I-I know about all the British wizarding families, of course. The French ones too.” He wasn’t lying, he had learned about all of them growing up. He focused mostly on the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but he still knew plenty about the other predominant families, such as the Potters. But he totally didn’t brush up on his Potter knowledge, ever.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Besides, you are just kind of famous, I don’t know if anyone has told you about that-”

“Shut it, you git!” Harry chuckled. _Finally._ There it was. He could do this playful banter all day.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape sneered as he dragged out the last ‘r’. He had managed to sneak up behind them, somewhere in Draco’s bantering. “Is it your intent to distract your partner, who is only trying to help you?”

Draco looked down and bit his lip so that Snape couldn’t see him holding back his laughter.

“I-I, no.” Draco wished he could see Harry’s face, he was sure that he was pissed at Draco.

“No, what?”

“No, sir.”

“Hm.” He hummed and spun around, walking away, his cape flourishing as he moved.

“It’s really not fair that you’re his favorite,” Harry said once Snape was out of their range.

“Snape does not have _favorites,”_ Draco smirked. “And it is not my fault that I am the only person in this room who has an ounce of competency in this subject.”

“You know, you could actually _try_ to help me, then. I spent so much time helping _you_ yesterday, it only seems fair that you return the favor.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at him.

“I mean, you could start by just reading the instructions-”

“ _You_ don’t even read the instructions!” He protested. “Every time I try to go by the board, you sit here and go _no, the board is wrong!_ And the second I decide _not_ to go by the board, you say we should go by the board! I can’t win.” He huffed and slumped back in his chair.

Draco chuckled at his annoyance. _You’re so adorable when you’re frustrated._

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“Okay, fine. How much potions theory do you know?”

“ _Theory?_ Don’t you just follow a recipe?”

Draco groaned and put his head in his hands. Dear God, Harry Potter was going to be the death of him, in every single way possible.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

That night, Draco woke to screaming.

He heard it first in his dream. He couldn't remember what he was dreaming about, but he knew that he was talking to someone when their words slowly morphed into incoherent moans and cries. 

He bolted upright, the cries growing into screams, the moans growing into words. “No, please,” and “ _Cedric._ ”

He knew immediately that they were coming from Harry’s bed.

He flung himself out of bed and scurried across the room, as Harry’s bed was on the opposite side of his. His heart felt a sting every time Harry yelled. The other boys in the room had started to wake up, still disoriented and confused as to what was happening. Soon Ron was on his feet and peering over Draco’s shoulder as he reached Harry’s bed.

Draco yanked the curtains aside. Harry was thrashing his head side to side, covered in sweat, the blankets pooled at his feet. Draco placed one hand on each of Harry’s shoulders and started to gently shake him. 

“Harry, wake up. It’s just a dream, Harry,” he repeated over and over again, in a low voice. He wanted to jolt him awake, to get him out of whatever horror he was currently stuck in. He wanted nothing more to get the pained expression off his face, but he knew that startling him was not a good idea.

Harry’s eyes fluttered open as he violently gasped for air, his body shaking when he did so. Ron breathed out a sigh of relief.

His shirt clung to him, sticking to the sweat that was beginning to drench his body. His hair was messier than normal, which said a lot, and his hands were gripping Draco’s biceps, his fingernails digging into his skin. His chest rose and fell, quickly at first, but gradually slowed as he came to, his grip loosening and his eyes darting around the room.

“It’s okay, mate. It’s just a dream-” Ron started to say, but Harry cut him off.

“It’s never just a dream,” he mumbled, kicking the blankets off his feet. Before any of them could even think of something to say, Harry was slamming the dormitory door shut behind him as he stormed out.

The five boys stood there in awkward silence, Draco and Ron standing next to Harry’s bed, the others still in their own, rubbing their eyes, trying to go back to sleep. 

It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it was the first night in a while. They used to happen almost every single night during the first week of classes, Ron always talking Harry back down until he was able to sleep again. Then, abruptly, they had stopped. But had they really?

Draco sighed. “I will go talk to him, you should get some sleep,” he said.

Ron started to argue. “Are you sure-”

“I have been meaning to talk to him, anyway.” It was a lie and not a lie at the same time. He didn’t _really_ need to talk to him, he just wanted to make sure he was okay. Draco didn’t think he would be able to go back to sleep without knowing what had happened, without knowing that Harry had someone there to support him. But he _had_ been meaning to talk to him, about if he was feeling the same things Draco was starting to, but he didn’t think he was ready for that conversation quite yet. Maybe it was just a fluke. Maybe the butterflies and caught breaths would go away, and bringing it up would be a mistake. “Unless you really want to talk to him,” he added.

“No, that’s alright,” he said, yawning. “Thank you.”

Draco gave an awkward nod as Ron climbed into his bed. Draco took a deep breath as he left the room, not knowing where he was going to find Harry or what was going to happen when he did so.

Harry was in the common room, alone, sitting on the couch next to the empty fireplace. He was curled up against the arm of the couch, his head buried in his arms. Draco thought he heard him crying, but Harry immediately tensed up and went silent. He had probably heard someone coming down the stairs and lifted his head ever so slightly to see who it was, enough to where Draco really couldn’t see his face.

“Go away,” he mumbled, his voice cracking.

Draco ignored him as he walked over to the couch sitting next to Harry. He sat in silence for a moment, letting Harry adjust to having someone next to him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He choked out. 

Draco looked over at him and watched as his shoulders rose and fell in an uneven pattern. Yup, he was definitely still crying. He didn’t know what to do. He never had to comfort a crying person before. Was he supposed to say something? Was he supposed to do something? He surely wasn’t supposed to just sit there, but what was he supposed to do? 

He wanted to do _something._ It hurt him to see Harry like this, and it hurt him, even more, to see him bottling it up, pushing him and Ron away. It reminded Draco too much of himself.

Cautiously, he placed his left arm across Harry’s back, resting his hand on his shoulder.

He was not expecting Harry to move into his embrace, choosing to curl up against his side instead of the couch. 

Draco instinctively wrapped his other arm around him as Harry’s fists grabbed Draco’s t-shirt. He buried his face in Draco’s chest with a sob. His cries were audible now, and Draco felt his shirt grow wet where Harry’s face was. He rubbed Harry’s arm with one hand and made small circles with the thumb of the other in an attempt to soothe him. _What the hell had happened in that dream?_

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Whatever it was, it’s over now.” He whispered into the top of his head.

Draco had wanted Harry in his arms, but not like this.

He still had no idea what his feelings were, or where they had come from. They seemed to come out of nowhere and hit him like a truck. He had never felt something like this before, and he wasn’t even good at processing his emotions when they knew what they were, so how the hell was he supposed to know what was going on inside his head? Was he supposed to be feeling this hurt whenever Harry let out another cry? Maybe that just meant that he cared for him, but at what point does he cross a line?

Harry’s breathing had calmed down, he was no longer sobbing, but Draco could still feel a few stray, silent tears falling down his face. 

“It- it was the graveyard. _Cedric_.”

Draco tightened his grip on Harry. “ _Fuck,_ Harry, I’m so sorry. It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it.”

Harry sat up straight, causing Draco to let go but still keeping an arm around his shoulders. He shook his head. “No, I want people to talk about it. People refuse to even say his name, and, it’s like he never even existed. He was our classmate, and now he’s _dead,_ Draco.” He sighed, leaning his head on Draco’s shoulder. “I don’t feel safe at Hogwarts anymore.”

“Neither do I,” Draco admitted. “But that’s why we have the DA, right?”

“Look at me, I’m a mess. It should be you and Hermione leading it, not me.”

“You’re not a mess-”

“Really?” He snapped, tensing up. “Are you sure about that?”

“How often does this happen? The dreams?”

Harry slumped back into the couch. “It’s not always the graveyard. Some night, I can’t explain it, but there’s this door, and it’s like someone’s pushing me to open it but I can never reach it. I don’t wake up sweating and screaming, no, that only happens with the graveyard.”

“How often, Harry?”

He shrugged. “Maybe, like, three nights out of the week?”

“ _Three nights a week?_ ” Draco felt his stomach drop. He felt guilty that he hadn’t noticed it sooner. “That’s-”

“It’s fine.” Harry cut him off. “I usually cast a muffliato around my bed, to not wake you guys, but tonight I could fall asleep before I remembered. I’m sorry.”

“Are you really fucking _apologizing_ right now?” And Draco thought that _he_ had a problem dismissing his emotions. “You should go to Pomfrey, this isn’t normal. She could at least give you a bottle of-”

“I don’t want it,” he argued. “I’m fine.”

“Harry-”

“Can we change the subject? Please?”

He sighed, knowing that he wasn’t going to get anywhere. He didn’t want to push Harry further than he was comfortable with. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

Harry shrugged. He moved so that he was laying down on the couch, his head in Draco’s lap. His hands found themselves playing with Harry’s hair, trying to smooth it out, but eventually giving up and just let himself run his fingers through his hair.

“That feels nice.” He hummed. His eyes were closed and he seemed relaxed. Draco smiled.

“I wish your hair were longer,” he admitted, “I kinda really want to braid it.”

Harry let out a snort. “You? You know how to braid hair?”

“I had long hair when I was a kid!” He defended. “My father made me cut it all off before Hogwarts, saying that I would look more _normal_ or whatever.”

“Well, why don’t you grow it back out?”

“I always have wanted to, but I don’t know. It has been a while, I don’t know if it would still look good.”

“You should, I think it would look nice.”

Harry had opened his eyes and was staring at Draco’s face. His eyes looked different without his glasses. Draco felt that the glasses hid them away from the world, that they were so much brighter than he had thought. So much greener than he had though. Green had always been his favorite color.

“What’re you thinking about?” Harry raised an eyebrow, catching him off guard.

Draco cleared his throat. “Uh, nothing. Nothing.”

Harry continued to stare at him. “You remind me of Sirius, you know.”

Draco had learned about Sirius, through Hermione. He had overheard bits and pieces of their conversations, about how Harry was writing to him, and one day he approached Hermione because he felt that he deserved to know why his friend was writing to a mass murderer.

“Your Godfather? _Really_ Potter? What am I, your _daddy_ now?”

Harry’s face began to turn bright red. “I- uh, no! What? I didn’t mean it like _that_.”

“Merlin, take a joke,” he smiled playfully, continuing to tease him. “And somehow _I’m_ the one who needs to learn social cues.”

“Shut up, I was being serious.”

“You mean Sirius-”

“Draco!”

He laughed. “I’m sorry! It was _right_ there. I had to.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and you’re the first person to _ever_ make that joke. I’m just dying of laughter over here.”

“Rude.”

“I’m not kidding, though. You both had similar upbringings, then were the first in your families to not be sorted into Slytherin, and ended up in _Gryffindor_ of all houses-”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“-but you both didn’t let your family define you, and you went against your families. It took you a while to come around, I will say, but look at you now.”

Draco frowned. “And it led me to being disowned, to being replaced.”

“You replaced them too,” Harry argued back.

“Yeah, and now I am looked down upon by everyone who values the Malfoys. I am still technically the heir, you know, but I doubt I will be able to find anyone who would be willing to continue the Malfoy bloodline with _me._ ”

“Please, you and I both know that you don’t give a _shit_ about that.”

Draco knew he was right. He sighed. “Whatever happened to blood is thicker than water?”

“You do know that’s not the full idiom, right? It’s really the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”

“I’m sorry, who are you, so very wise in the way of pureblood idioms?”

“It’s actually a muggle phrase, you know,” he said as if everyone knew the truth. He sounded like Hermione. “People use it wrong all the time. It actually refers to how bloodshed on the battlefield creates stronger ties than your family ties.” He paused, letting the words sink in.

“What’s your point here, Potter?”

“My point is,” he continued, “that family doesn’t define you. And you don’t _let_ it define you. There are ties stronger than family ones, but you don’t necessarily need to spill blood in order to form them. The friendships you make and the ones who love you no matter what are the real ties. Blood may be thicker than water, sure, but love is thicker than blood.”

He didn’t know what to say. He was at a loss for words.

“Oh, don’t be like that. You’ve come to see this in the past month or two, you just needed someone to _tell_ you so that you could stop feeling so guilty all the damn time. It’s not a good look on you.”

“`Mhm, and you think about what looks good on me all the time, it seems?” Draco smirked. He could do this.

“Why is it that you must _always_ deflect serious conversations?” Harry narrowed his eyes despite the smile crawling onto his face. “And besides, you’re the one who keeps circling the conversation back to your good looks-”

“So you admit it?” Draco smirked. He loved this. He loved teasing Harry, the playful banter. One day it was going to drive him insane.

“What?”

“You admit that I have _good looks-”_

Harry interrupted Draco’s sentence by picking up the pillow on the couch and whacking him with it.

“Will you _stop_ always whacking me with the damn pillows?” He took the pillow and hit Harry’s shoulder back.

Harry only laughed. 

_Dear God,_ Draco thought. _I could listen to Harry Potter laugh for hours on end and it would still make me smile every time._

Draco didn’t know why he liked being in Harry’s presence so much, why he craved it so desperately. A month ago, the two of them could hardly be in the same room as each other. A month ago, he hated Harry Potter with all of his guts. But here they were, talking about friendships and those who loved you no matter what. Why the hell had everything changed so fast?

But when he thought back to his previous encounters with Harry, everything started to fall into place. All of the emotions he had been feeling, that seemingly came out of nowhere, started to make sense. The tension was always there, and now that they had grown closer, it was simply manifesting itself in a different way, in the way that it always had been that Draco had refused to pay attention to.

He always _did_ crave Harry’s presence. It was exhilarating. It was electrifying. It made him feel _alive._ He used to think that feeling was just because of the mutual hatred that they shared, and that feeling of electricity was going to settle down once they did. But it never faded. It was still there, alive as ever, only intensifying. 

He only hoped that Harry could feel it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom, title drop! Shoutout to renee for telling me what the full quote was, otherwise this scene (and the whole damn title) would’ve made no sense at all. I’ve updated the description now too, so that it all makes sense haha.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday everyone! This is my longest chapter per date (it's really not even that long, but still), and I'm really proud of it. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Happy Christmas in July!

The leaves on the trees have long since fallen, and now the branches were all bare save for the occasional icicle or patch of snow the wind hadn’t blown off. Harry and Draco walked through the crisp December air, their jackets and scarves wrapped around them tight to block out the wind, the snow crunching beneath their feet as they made their way to Hogsmeade.

“Do you think you would be able to help me pick out my secret Santa gift?” Draco asked.

Draco had never participated in the Gryffindor secret Santa before. He had always spoken to their prefect in private, requesting that he simply be left out of the hat. To avoid any awkwardness, he simply wouldn’t be present for the name picking or present giving ceremonies, and no one ever asked questions.

This year, as prefect, he couldn’t really skip out without raising suspicion. Besides, he had actually  _ wanted  _ to participate this year. He had grown comfortable with everyone in his year, and had made some close friends. He never participated because it was too much, too intimate. But now, he finally felt okay with it.

“You know, the point of a secret Santa is keeping it a  _ secret  _ . You shouldn’t even be shopping for it with me.” Harry said.

“Is that why Hermione and Ron aren’t coming with us? Are they getting their gifts too?”

“Er, yeah. That’s it.” Something in his voice didn’t sound all too convincing. In the past month or two, Hermione and Ron had continued to just  _ happen  _ to be doing something whenever Draco and Harry were together. Draco actually missed having them around sometimes, he had grown to like the idea of having a group of friends. He both loved and hated being alone with Harry.

Draco shivered as a gust of wind came out of nowhere. “And how come you are not out on your own? This is the first Hogsmeade weekend since we have gotten our assignments, and it’s the last one of the term, too.”

“I’m not telling you anything about my secret Santa.”

“You bought it by owl, didn’t you?” Harry bit his lip and didn’t say anything. “Fine. Be that way.”

“It’s a  _ secret  _ Santa, Draco, for the millionth time!”

“Please? Can I at least get a hint?”

“You haven’t even told me anything about your secret Santa.” Harry teased.

“Oh, alright,” Draco said. “If I do, will you tell me yours?”

“No.”

Draco chuckled. “You are impossible.”

Harry chuckled back. “Please, you know you love it.”

Draco smiled but said nothing. Their banter had grown to consist of fewer insults. Draco didn’t know what this meant. He  _ liked  _ teasing Harry through insults, it allowed him to hide behind his words. Now that it was stripped away, he felt exposed. He felt like he was going to slip up and say the wrong thing, and Harry would never want to be friends with him again.

“So, where are we off to first?” Harry asked once they had reached the village.

Draco sighed. “I really am not sure. I was thinking of looking at Tomes and Scrolls-”

“You have Hermione, don’t you?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“What? No! Why do you think that?” Draco realized he sounded overly defensive, but he really didn’t have Hermione as his secret Santa. 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Because you’re going to the bookshop?” He said as if it were obvious.

“This is why I need your help!” Draco complained. “I like books. I  _ love  _ books. Hermione loves books too. Doesn’t everyone like books?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? Do you think Neville would like a book? I was thinking of getting him this new Herbology one-”

Harry threw up his arms in defeat. “ _ Secret  _ Santa, Draco! Key word here is  _ secret!  _ ”

Draco blushed. “I- er, sorry.”

He was afraid Harry would be mad, but he still had the same smile plastered on his face as when Draco asked him to go to Hogsmeade with him.

“Now that you know my  _ secret,  _ ” Draco said as he rolled his eyes. “Can you  _ please  _ help me? I really don’t want to get him a lame gift. I like Neville-”

“You  _ like  _ him, huh?” Harry raised an eyebrow as he nudged Draco with his elbow.

“What?” Draco said. Did people really think he  _ liked  _ Neville?

Suddenly they had stopped walking and Harry turned to face him.

“Relax, I’m only kidding. I know you don’t.” Harry seemed to sense the panic in his voice and had set his hands on either side of Draco, resting them on his elbows. They were nearly the same height, but Draco was just an inch or two taller, causing Harry to have to look up slightly in order to make eye contact with him. The way that those green eyes looked up at Draco made his stomach turn into a knot.  _ Did he know?  _ “It was just a joke.”

Draco cleared his throat, looking away. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I knew that.”

He frowned slightly as he felt the loss of contact as Harry moved away. “C’mon, let’s go check out Dogweed and Deathcap and see if there’s any niche Herbology things he might like. If not, we can always go to Honeyduke’s, alright?”

Harry placed his hand on the small of Draco’s back. Unable to breathe, let alone speak, Draco nodded. Harry smiled and Dropped his hand as they started down the path again.

Someone had called out to Harry, and he turned his head to wave and say hello back. In doing so, he stopped paying attention to where he was going, causing him to slip on a patch of ice that was on the cobblestone road.

Draco instinctively reached out and grabbed him, catching him midfall.

They had ended up in a position where Draco had his arms wrapped around Harry’s back, Harry’s hand tightly gripping Draco’s biceps. And the two of them couldn’t stop staring into the others’ eyes.

“How’s the view up there?” Harry teased.

Draco stiffened, becoming very tense. He pulled Harry up and let go of him quickly, as if he would be burned if he held on any longer. “Watch where you are going, Potter.”

He laughed. 

“What is it that you find so funny?” Draco snapped.

Harry just shook his head, his laugh falling away as his lips curved into a frown. “Can you stop pretending to be so cold all the time?”

“I do not know what you are-”

“There it is!” Harry raised his voice. “You start sneering and calling me  _ Potter  _ and stop using contractions and slip back into your posh voice- and for what? What’s the point in all of it?”

Harry was full-on yelling now, getting looks from those around them. Draco’s face grew red as he stared at the ground. He didn’t like people looking at him, whispering about him. He never did.

Harry lowered his voice. “What are you so afraid of?”

Draco lifted his head to see Harry staring at him, no longer out of anger, but out of concern. He didn’t like how Harry could see straight through him. He was right. Draco  _ was  _ scared. But he couldn’t tell Harry why, at least not now.

He merely shook his head, breaking eye contact. “I’m sorry,” he said as he kept walking, “old habits just die hard, I guess.”

“That’s alright,” Harry said softly. “I just don’t like it when you get like that, it makes me upset, like I feel that I’ve done something wrong-”

“No,” Draco cut him off. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is just me, not used to,” he trailed off, “not used to having a good friend, I guess.”

Harry smirked. “Yet you’re closer with Hermione than me.”

Draco sighed. “I miss her. Not that I don’t like spending time with you! I really do!” He defended himself before Harry could say anything. “I just miss talking to her about Potions and Arithmancy, and we haven’t really hung out in a while.”

“Yeah, we have been spending a lot of time together, haven’t we?”

Harry smiled at him as he held the door open for him at the Herbology shop.

Draco smiled back. “Yeah, we have.”

Neville was delighted when he opened the gift Draco had gotten for him.

Draco felt a warmth spread through his heart when he opened it. He felt both relieved that he had done the right thing, and happy that he could bring a smile to someone else’s face.

“Thank you so much! This is amazing!” His face lit up as he opened the gift that was magically wrapped, as Draco really didn’t know how to package it. He had gotten him two smaller plants, an Aloe Vera plant and Dittany plant.

Draco smiled. “I got some smaller ones so you could keep them on the window or something, so that you wouldn’t have to go down to the greenhouse.”

“Yeah! That’s awesome! Oh, I bet I could propagate the Dittany in a month or two, and I’d probably be able to get enough to make my own salve. This means so much, thank you!” 

Draco nodded as he smiled. “Harry did help me pick them out, too.”

Seamus laughed. “If it weren’t for Harry, you’d be getting yourself another textbook, Neville!”

“No!” Draco defended, but everyone else laughed.

Neville was the second to last to receive his gift, leaving only Draco left. And the only person who hadn’t given a gift was the boy sitting right beside him.

“Here you go,” Harry said, handing him a small gift the size of a fist. 

“I knew it,” Draco smirked. “That’s why you wouldn’t tell me who you had.”

“Yeah, yeah, quit being a sap and just open it.”

Draco rolled his eyes but did what he was told. He really didn’t know what to expect, especially with a package so small. He lifted the lid and inside was a snitch. He picked it up and rolled it between his fingers, jumping back a bit when the wings fluttered open.

“What-”

“It’s the ball from the Hufflepuff game,” Harry explained.

Draco was confused. “But, I thought you caught it? Why is it opening to me?”

“I charmed it so that it opens to you instead of me. If you hadn’t caught me, first of all, I might be dead, and second of all, we probably wouldn’t have won that game. You deserve that snitch a million more times than I do.”

Draco was shocked. The gesture felt oddly intimate, and he felt his eyes begin to tear up before he suppressed them. He was at a loss of words, he didn’t know what to say, and ended up just blurting out Charms jargon instead of what he actually felt. “But, that’s got to be a quite advanced charm, I didn’t think-”

“Yeah, er, Hermione actually had to help me with that.” His cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink as he scratched the back of his neck. “But it was all my idea, so-”

“I love it,” Draco cut him off to save him from some embarrassing word vomit. “It’s really sweet, thank you.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The end of term had come all too quickly.

They only had a few days of classes left, and all that was left was to take exams, exchange gifts, and have one last feast before going home for the holidays. Draco, of course, would be staying at Hogwarts, and it looked like he was the only one of his friends doing so.

He pushed the thought of being alone for the holiday out of his mind.

Draco was sitting on the couch in front of the fire, wrapped in a Gryffindor blanket to keep warm. Octavia was curled up against his side and Hermione sat on his other, as the two of them swapped notes as they studied for their first exam, Charms, which was in three days.

Or rather, Draco was  _ attempting  _ to study.

Ron was sitting in the armchair, minding his own business, but Harry was sitting on the floor at Draco’s feet, insisting on distracting him.

“Will you  _ please  _ stop poking my leg, for the last time!” Draco groaned in frustration, causing his cat to let out a soft meow as Draco interrupted her nap.

“C’mon Draco, I’m  _ bored.  _ I want to talk about Quidditch!”

Draco rolled his eyes. “ I don’t have  _ time  _ to talk about Quidditch, Harry. I have to study for this exam. And you should be studying too!”

It was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes. “I don’t  _ need  _ to study, I have plenty of time to study later!”

“Yes you  _ do,  _ ” Draco argued. “You haven’t even  _ started  _ studying, have you? You should have been doing this for weeks! Hermione, please back me up on this.”

She raised her eyebrows, not even glancing up from her textbook. “I don’t want to get in the middle of... whatever this is,” she said as she gestured between the two of them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Draco asked as Harry let out a noise of excitement. 

She simply bit her lip to hide her smirk and flipped a page.

Harry continued to poke his leg.

“There’s nothing to even  _ talk  _ about, it’s the offseason!” Draco exclaimed.

“What do you  _ mean,  _ ” Ron called out from his chair, “there’s  _ nothing to talk about  _ ? The draft is next week!”

“See!” Harry’s face lit up with excitement. “Ron gets it!”

“Then go talk to Ron about Quidditch,” Draco muttered as he picked his book back up.

Harry had turned around, gotten on his knees, and put his hand on Draco’s page, pushing his book down.

“Hey! I was reading that-”

“But I’ve  _ already  _ talked to Ron about Quidditch,” Harry complained.

Ron groaned in his chair. “He’s talked my ear off about it  _ all day.  _ I need a break.”

“You were the one saying there was plenty to talk about!’ Draco didn’t like how his three friends were ganging up against him like this.

Ron said nothing as Harry spoke again. “Exactly! I already talked to Ron, I want to talk to  _ you  _ ! Do you reckon the Cannons are going to go for a seeker or a chaser for their first pick? They really ought to redraft the whole team-”

“Hey!” Ron interrupted.

“-clearly, Ron disagrees. I have my bet on a chaser, their seeker is actually somewhat decent. He can catch the snitch, but every time he does the team still loses!”

“Harry,” Draco said. “I really enjoy your enthusiasm about Quidditch, I really do. But I just don’t have  _ time  _ to talk about it right now-”

“Then come out and play a match against me.”

Draco dropped his jaw. “You can’t be serious.”

“You said you don’t have time to  _ talk  _ about Quidditch, you never said you didn’t have time to  _ play  _ it.”

_ He really was serious.  _ “You’re insane. It’s bloody freezing outside!”

“That means the pitch is going to be empty!”

He groaned. Harry was impossible.“Harry, I am  _ not  _ going flying with you.”

“Fine. Then I’ll just sit here and talk to you about it then. Did you know that the keeper for the Haripes is looking at retirement? It’s really quite a problem, since the team doesn’t know when, or  _ if  _ she will. What if they draft a new keeper, just for her to turn around and not go through with it, and they wasted a draft pick? I think that’s at least better than the other way around, then they’ll be scrambling to find a decent-”

“Merlin!” Hermione yelled as she set her book down. “Harry, if you’re going to bother Draco, can you  _ please  _ do it somewhere else?”

“If you’re going to study, can you  _ please  _ do it somewhere else?” Harry fought back.

“Draco, just go flying with him so he shuts up-”

“Fine!” Draco yelled, slamming his book shut, causing Octavia to jump off the couch and run off somewhere where she wouldn’t be disturbed.  _ If only I could do that.  _ Although his head was starting to hurt, maybe he could use a break. “I’ll go flying with you  _ if,  _ and only if, you promise to not bother me while I’m studying for the rest of exams!”

Harry grinned so wide Draco was afraid he was going to split his face. “Excellent! Let me just grab my coat!”

Draco sighed as he shoved his books and papers into his bag. Hermione smiled at him.

“What are you smirking at, Granger?” He huffed.

She kept smiling. “That you really didn’t take much convincing.”

He was sure she knew. She  _ had  _ to know. “At least I won’t have to listen to him.”

Following after Harry, he made his way to the room to drop off his bag and grab his coat. 

“Ready to go?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded, and they started to make their way down to the pitch. “If you complain that you get cold even  _ once,  _ I will never do this again.”

As they walked and talked, Draco became more and more excited. Part of him was glad that Harry had asked him to go flying. He was definitely starting to get stressed over studying for Charms, and flying would be a nice break for him. Flying always took his mind off things, calmed his nerves, allowed him to relax. 

He had never gone flying with Harry before. They had practice together, yes, but they really didn’t interact much with each other. The only players the seeker really came into contact with were the beaters, and even that was rare. The incident with Harry on the back of the broom had been an exception, and that had only been one time.

Now he was combining two of his favorite things. Harry and flying. And he couldn’t wait.

They were out on the grounds now, halfway between the castle and the pitch.

“Draco?” Harry said suddenly, breaking their silence.

“Yeah?” Draco hummed.

“I’m cold.”

“You motherfucker,” Draco mumbled under his breath. “Here.”

He reached into his pocket and started shoving things into Harry’s arms. A hat, gloves, and a Gryffindor scarf.

“Wow, prepared much?” Harry said.

Draco rolled his eyes. “I brought them because I  _ knew  _ you weren’t going to dress warm enough and start complaining! Now shut up and put on the damn clothes.”

Harry chuckled. “You know me so well”

_ Too well. _

They pulled both of their broomsticks from the shed, when Draco said, “so I don’t have any balls or anything-”

“That’s alright,” Harry said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a snitch. “I have one. We don’t have to seek for it, if you don’t want to! I’m fine if you just want to fly around-”

“No, Draco cut him off. “No, seeking sounds perfect.”

Harry smiled as they made their way to the middle of the pitch. He did have a point, between the horrible temperature and the upcoming exams, the pitch was completely clear for the two of them to do whatever they wanted.

“You want me to go easy on you?” Harry said as they mounted their brooms. His voice was soft and gentle and seemed genuine, but Draco knew from the smirk on his face that he was mocking him. “I know you’re not a seeker-”

Draco scoffed and interrupted him. “Shut up. I’m going to kick your ass.”

“If you insist,” Harry laughed as he released the snitch from his hand.

And they were off. And it was  _ exhilarating.  _

Draco was usually calm and composed when he played Quidditch. Once he got over his initial nerves, the adrenaline caused him to be able to think clearly and logically, allowing him to do his complex maneuvers and plays.

But with Harry, he couldn’t control himself.

He felt his emotions get the best of him. He found himself shouting obscenities back and forth at Harry, bumping into him and knocking his broom in tricky, illegal ways. He was sure that he had sprained his wrist the last time he barrelled into Harry’s side, but he couldn’t even feel it. He felt that if he were sorted into Slytherin, if he played for the Slytherin team, he would be playing like this. Violent, animalistic. 

He threw his broom in frustration when Harry caught the snitch. Again.

“You told me not to go easy on you,” Harry teased as he touched down onto the ground gently, unlike Draco who had nearly dropped himself out of the sky. “Five to nothing. Are you sure you don’t want me to go easy on you this time?”

“I don’t need your pity,” Draco spat. “And  _ fine,  _ we can go one more round. It’s almost dark.”

“Just one?” Harry pouted.

Draco huffed. “Yes, just one.” And he took off to the sky.

It turned out that Draco was lying when he said  _ one more round. _

“You son of a bitch!” Draco yelled as he landed against the ground.

Harry landed beside him. “What the hell are you yelling at me for?”

“You  _ let  _ me win that one-”

“I did not!”

“Do you really think I’m an  _ idiot  _ ?” Draco yelled, dismounting his broom and stepping in front of Harry’s face. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice that you just  _ happened  _ to slow down as soon as I got close to the snitch?”

“It was the wind-”

“It was the wind,  _ my ass!  _ ” Draco threw the snitch at Harry. “We’re playing again.”

He fumbled with the ball, confused. “You were the one who said this was the last time.”

“That was before you gave me a pity win.” Draco was furious. If he was going to beat Harry, then he was going to  _ beat  _ Harry.

“It’s getting dark. We won’t even be able to see the ball.”

“Then this will be the last round. Only if you play fair, of course.” He said with a slight smirk at the end.

“ _ Fine,  _ ” Harry huffed, throwing the ball up into the sky.

Once they were in the air, Draco regretted his decision to go again. Harry had a point, within five minutes, Draco could hardly see the front of his broomstick, let alone a snitch.

“This is impossible.” Harry panted as he pulled up next to Draco, “we’re never going to be able to find that snitch. Might as well just go back inside without it.”

Draco almost agreed with him, but he saw the last ounce of daylight glimmer off something far off in the distance. Harry had seen it too.

The two of them dove off towards the snitch together. It was difficult for Draco to keep up with Harry since he had a much nicer, faster broom, but Draco kept pushing on, harder and harder. He was going to be  _ damned  _ if he lost to him one more time.

The two of them were neck and neck the entire time they raced around the edges of the pitch for the snitch. They were only a foot off the ground, hunched over their brooms, arms outstretched. Draco kept swatting Harry’s fingers away, him doing the same thing, as they grew closer and closer to the ball. Draco had managed to pull ahead of Harry just by a few inches, enough to where his fingers grazed the cold metal ball.

That’s when Harry had decided to lean forward even further in an attempt to grab it without having to fly faster. But he had leaned forward too much, putting too much weight on the front of the broom, causing him to topple over and fall forward.

And he took Draco down with him.

Draco grunted as he fell off the broom, wincing as he hit the ground even though it wasn’t that far of a fall. Harry’s body collided with his, multiple times, as they tumbled before finally reaching a stop.

Draco was flat on his back, still panting from the adrenaline of flying and the wind getting knocked out of him when he fell. Harry was on top of him, pinning him to the ground. His arms were on either side of his head, their chests touching and rising and falling together.

Draco definitely wasn’t going to be able to catch his breath.

He looked up at Harry through his eyelashes. Harry was staring at him, intently, his lips gently parted as he tried to catch his breath as well. Even in the dark, Draco could see the dark look in Harry’s eyes.

Even in the dark, Draco was noticing every little detail. He was suddenly aware of how warm Harry’s chest felt against his, how rapidly his heart was beating, and how rapidly his own heart was beating in response. He noticed how they were almost in sync, along with their heavy breaths. He breathed in Harry’s scent, the warm sandalwood fragrance mixing with his sweat. He noticed how close their lips were.

A million thoughts raced through Draco’s mind, yet his mind was completely blank.  _ Was this really happening? _

It was. Draco’s hands were hovering cautiously over Harry’s shoulders, and Harry had gently turned his head to the side. He dropped his eyes to Draco’s lips before returning his intense gaze, as if he was asking Draco’s permission.

_ Yes,  _ his mind was screaming.

His eyes fluttered shut as he placed those hands on his shoulders, anticipating the moment he had been waiting for.

Draco heard the flutter of the snitch’s wings and opened it just in time to see it fly right between them, trying to sneak itself in between the closing gap. Harry jumped back to avoid getting hit in the face with the ball, sitting up on his knees, far away from Draco.

_ No, no,  _ his mind continued to scream.

Harry cleared his throat. “We should, er, we should get back to the castle.” He said quickly.

Draco sat up, trying to hide the disappointment in his face. “Yeah, I guess we should.”

They put their brooms away and walked back to the castle in complete silence. Both of them with their hands in their pockets, walking much too far apart from each other.

Draco didn’t know how he was going to be able to sleep in the same room as him tonight.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Draco had spoken to Hermione almost immediately upon their return. Harry had immediately gone off to bed, and Draco felt that he needed some time, away from Harry, to get his mind straight. Hermione was the only one still in the common room, still going through her notes.

“I need to talk to you,” he had said, his voice breaking.

It had taken all of his courage to go to her. He wanted to run away, to lock himself in the library for the rest of term, to never have to deal with the rejection and embarrassment he knew he was going to face.

But he didn’t. He told her everything. He told her about the ways that Harry takes up his mind almost every second of every day, of how he gets butterflies in his chest every time they make eye contact. About how every time Harry touches him he feels a spark of electricity, about how their banter drives him absolutely mad. 

He told her about how it felt wonderful but completely, utterly terrifying, because he had never felt any emotion this strongly before, and he had absolutely no idea what to do. He had felt it even when Harry had punched him in the face earlier in the year, and all he had done was suppress it somewhere down deep inside of him. But now it was too much, it was all too much, and it was threatening to spill out of him the next time he so much as looked at Harry.

She sat there and listened to every word, nodding along, her hand placed on his shoulder the entire time. And of course, she had known, she had known all along, but she was supportive the entire time.

“I think you need to tell him how you feel,” she had suggested, “before the term ends.”

And so he made a plan. He was going to talk to Harry, right after the last Dumbledore’s Army meeting before the holiday break. 

“Brilliant, Neville!’ Really, that hurt like a  _ bitch,  _ ” Draco groaned from the floor. Harry had them practicing Reducto, and Draco had been paired with Neville. He struggled at first, but he had really gotten the hang of it by the time the meeting was over.

Neville held out a hand and helped him up off the ground. “Oh, please. I got  _ one  _ good hit in, you only had about twenty.”

Draco shrugged. “I guess I found my trusty spell then,” and laughed it off. He liked compliments, he really did, they just made him uncomfortable sometimes.

“Alright everyone,” Harry said once their class had ended, “brilliant work today, really. I’ve seen tons of improvement over the term, and I can’t wait to jump back in after the holiday. I hope you all have a wonderful break.”

Hermione had come up to him. She had noticed the way he had tensed up and let out a sigh. “Just go for it, Draco, now’s your chance.”

“Hermione, I just can’t do it,” he said. “I, I’m just too scared.”

Cho Chang, a sixth year Ravenclaw, had gone up to talk to Harry. “Besides, he’s busy right now, I’ll just do it later.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she said. “You’re brave, Draco, I know you are. You were sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, you can do it, just wait until they’re done talking.”

Except they weren’t talking anymore. Cho had taken a step forward, placed a hand on Harry’s cheek, and kissed him.

He felt a pang in his stomach. He knew it, the Quidditch pitch had meant nothing to him, it was all just a mistake.

Hermione grabbed his hand and led him out of the room.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday! Sorry if this is a bit shorter than usual, I haven't been feeling well at all lately. I tried to write a little more but it just wouldn't come out, there might also be a few mistakes, I noticed a bunch and fixed them but I'm not sure if I caught them all. 
> 
> I hope you still enjoy!

Draco went to bed confused as all hell.

He really didn’t want to speak to Harry. He didn’t in the first place, but he really didn’t now. He was glad that Hermione had taken his hand and pulled him out of the Room of Requirement, otherwise, he was afraid he would still be in there, frozen in place, his heart shattering into a million pieces.

It just didn’t make any sense. He wasn’t entirely sure that Harry had felt the same way hell, he didn’t even know if Harry had liked guys. But there had to be  _ something  _ that explained the energy the two of them shared when they were alone, and then Harry had gone and gotten him such an oddly intimate secret Santa gift. The night on the quidditch pitch had all but confirmed Draco’s suspicions. He was scared to talk to him for two reasons, the first being that he wasn’t sure how their relationship was going to change. He didn’t want it to change. He wanted it to be the same, he wanted the same electricity between them, he just wanted to hold Harry’s hand on top of that. But Draco was also scared that he had been reading into everything too much and had created this false reality in his head.

And it seemed that his fear had become true. Cho kissed Harry, she initiated it, that wasn’t his fault. But he didn’t exactly pull away.  _ Why?  _ Now he  _ had _ to talk to him. There was no avoiding it anymore.

He rolled over in bed, unable to sleep, his mind racing. Groaning, he sat up in his bed and pushed his feet into his slippers. He needed a walk to clear his mind or else he wasn’t going to get  _ any  _ sleep that night. The echoing footsteps of professors on duty that lured around every corner were enough to get his heart racing and his mind to finally shut up.

When he returned, he was so exhausted that he didn’t even notice Harry and Ron weren’t in their beds.

They were still missing when he woke up in the morning, and they never showed up to breakfast in the Great Hall, either. 

“Hey, Hermione,” he said, looking up from his Ancient Runes notes. “Have you seen Harry or Ron this morning?”

She sighed. “The Weasleys, um, had a family emergency last night. They all went home, Harry too.”

Draco dropped his fork. “What? Is everything okay?”

She handed him the Daily Prophet as she spoke. “Ron wrote to me this morning, things are looking better, but his Dad is still in the hospital.”

_ Arthur Weasley Attacked at Ministry. _

“Holy shit,” was all he could manage. “-at, at the  _ Ministry _ ? How could this even happen? And why is Harry there? Why aren’t  _ you  _ there?” He had to make an effort to not raise his voice.

“I’m taking a portkey there after the Ancient Runes exam. Harry, well, Harry is basically Molly’s seventh son.” She didn’t say anything else, and Draco decided it was best to not push the matter.

He lifted his head up just in time to see Cho walk into the Great Hall, smiling, giggling with her friends. There were only a few wandless spells Draco had mastered, since when he lost his temper he often did them unintentionally. One of those spells was a tripping jinx. Hermione turned around to see what Draco was glaring at just in time to see Cho fall flat on her face.

“That was kind of mean, Draco,” Hermione said, turning back around, her voice quiet but stern.

Draco only shrugged.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

He woke up Christmas morning alone.

It wasn’t that it was something new and unusual to him, no. Draco was used to spending every Christmas for the past few years alone. It was just that after everything that had happened over the past few months, he was finally getting used to being around other people. Now every Gryffindor in his year had left for the holiday, and he didn’t really know anyone else.

He stepped out of bed, walking to the bathroom. When he stopped in his tracks. Sitting at the end of his bed was none one, but  _ five  _ presents. _ How the hell did he have so many presents?  _ He was used to getting one present and one present only, from Severus, every year. He dropped to his knees and read the names on all the presents. Severus, Hermione, Ron, Harry, and  _ Molly Weasley _ ?

He further read the tag, recognizing Ron’s horrible handwriting almost immediately.  _ Hi Draco, Happy Christmas! Sorry if this is unexpected, Harry and I were talking about you the other day and Mum threw a fit that we didn’t mention a new friend. She apologizes if it’s rushed, but I hope you still enjoy it. _

Draco’s heart fluttered. Harry was talking about him? 

He opened the package carefully, pulling out a hand-knit sweater, gazing at it in awe. It was a beautiful maroon color with a golden D knitted onto the front. He had never had something homemade before, and the fact that someone had gone through the time to  _ make  _ something for him caused him to tear up a bit. He put the sweater on, immediately feeling a wave of warmth, and was planning to wear it all day. Draco made a mental note to head down to the owelry later that day to write Mrs.Weasley a gracious letter.

He smiled as he opened the rest of his presents. He got a potions textbook from his godfather, which was expected, but he couldn’t wait to read it. Hermione gave him another potions book along with a muggle book called  _ Hamlet,  _ and Draco was ecstatic. He had three books to get him through this lonely week, and he couldn’t be happier. Ron had gotten him a new Gryffindor sweater along with a handful of chocolate frogs and Bertie Botts every flavor beans.

Draco had purposefully set aside Harry’s gift for last.  _ Happy Christmas, Draco. I saw these and Hogsmeade and immediately thought of you, I hope you enjoy them. _

He opened the delicately wrapped package to find a pair of silver cufflinks. He picked them up, rolling one in between his fingers. It was a constellation, but not just any constellation.  _ Draco. _

He smiled to himself. Not only was it sweet and thoughtful, but they were  _ beautiful.  _ For a boy who didn’t know how to dress himself, he had picked out something really nice. 

Putting away all of his gifts in a safe place, Draco glanced at his watch and realized he was running late for the Christmas morning feast. He quickly rushed into clean clothes, slipping Mrs. Weasley’s sweater back over his head before heading down to the Great Hall. All the students were sitting at the same table, smiling, laughing, and talking with one another. Draco sat at the end of the table, alone. He found that even though he was surrounded by people having much more fun than him, nothing could put a damper on his good mood.

After the feast, he followed Severus up to the living room of his quarters, where they usually sat and talked during Christmas.

“Did you enjoy the book I sent you?” Severus asked as he sat down.

Draco nodded and smiled. “Yes, I am very excited to read it.”

Severus sighed. “Look, I have something very important to tell you. I am not really sure what the best way to put it is, but you must promise to not tell anyone what I am about to tell you, apart from those whom it involves.”

Draco gulped. He occasionally had serious conversations with his godfather, but they never started out like this. “I promise,” he said, trying to not look nervous.

“I am not sure what the nature of your relationship with Mister Potter is-”

_ Dear God.  _

“-but I feel that it is strong enough to where I must warn you of this. I am sure you heard of what happened to Arthur Weasley?”

Draco nodded, his throat feeling dry. “Yes, I did.”

“He was minutes away from death, in the deepest parts of the ministry, but someone conveniently rushed to him in time. “Do you happen to know why someone was able to get to him just in time?”

He felt as if he was being interrogated. “No.”

Severus hummed. “So he did not tell you.”

Draco was confused. “What is going on?”

“Perhaps if you were not out of bed past curfew, lurking around the school, you would be there to witness what had happened! Do you have any idea how foolish you were being? Do you understand that rule is in place for a  _ reason,  _ and that something could have happened to you?”

He felt his heart sink. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that something serious-”

“No, of course, you did not.” He cut him off. “Arthur Weasley was saved because Harry Potter saw the attack. I am sure you noticed he was not in bed after your foolish meandering, but no, he was not at the ministry himself.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Draco said after a lull of silence.

“Arthur Weasley was attacked by Lord Voldemort. Professor Dumbledore and I have been speculating over something for a while, and we are afraid that our worst suspicions are true. I am sure that you are aware that Mister Potter has been having nightmares, and this is due to a, connection of sorts, between Potter’s mind and Voldemort’s mind-”

“Why are you telling me this?” Draco cut him off. He felt as if he was intruding, that he was learning Harry’s deepest, darkest secret, all without him knowing. 

Severus sighed. “You should not worry, but you should proceed with caution. We do not think that the Dark Lord has realized this connection, and I have already begun teaching him Occlumency lessons which will resume when he arrives. I am telling you this because in these lessons, I have noticed that you have a certain,  _ presence,  _ in his mind. A strong one. Again, I do not know the nature of your relationship, so I will not tell you what to do. I just wanted to warn you about this, I hope that you have trust in Mister Potter to take Occlumency seriously. But if he does not, and the Dark Lord realizes this connection, you and your friends may be in grave danger.”

_ Grave danger.  _ Draco’s head was swimming. All he wanted to do is make a friend or two, and now he’s thrown into the center of a war?

“It is imperative that none of this leaves this room. I believe Miss Granger and Mister Weasley are aware of the circumstances, but apart from that, nothing can leave this room. Do you understand me?”

Draco felt his chest grow tight. Not only was  _ he  _ in danger, Hermione was in danger, Ron was in danger, but most of all,  _ Harry  _ was in danger. 

“Do you understand me?” Severus raised his voice.

He couldn’t speak.

“I- I have to go,” Draco stammered out before he ran out of the room. 

Once he was in the corridor, Draco threw himself up against the wall, hoping that the cold brick against his back would help calm him down, but it didn’t. He slowly sank down until he was sitting on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. His mind was swimming with thoughts, too many thoughts, and he couldn’t seem to focus on any one thought. The only word he could concentrate on was  _ danger.  _ He was in danger, his friends were in danger, everyone was in danger. His breaths were short and shallow, and his vision was swimming with his thoughts.

_ I have to calm down,  _ he finally thought, but that thought caused his chest to grow even tighter, it caused his breaths to burn his lungs even more.  _ No,  _ he thought,  _ don’t let it get worse than it is.  _ He closed his eyes and thought about what Pomfrey was telling him. He didn’t think he was having a panic attack. Was he? Is this what it felt like? Surely the fact that he was recognizing it meant that it couldn’t be happening, could it? He fought against his body to control his breaths, counting to five every time he breathed in and out, feeling his beating heart begin to slow down, and the burn in his chest begin to fade.

He picked himself up off the floor before anyone could see him, wiping the tears from his face. He would be  _ damned  _ if anyone saw this. Making his way back to his room, with a clearer mind, he began to think through everything.

_ I have a presence in his mind.  _ It should have made him feel excited, giddy, even, but it only made him terrified. What if Voldemort, when he looked into Harry’s mind, realized this? What would he do? Would he do something to Draco to get to Harry? Would he do something to his father?

As he flung himself onto his bed, he realized that the safest thing to do was to completely cut himself from Harry. It was for the best. If Harry’s feelings for Draco were the same as Draco’s feelings for Harry, then that left Harry vulnerable, and Draco couldn’t bear to be the one who put him in danger. But if he cut him off, would Harry still think about him? Would it make things even worse? Pulling himself away would protect both of them, but at what cost? He couldn’t bring himself to hurt Harry. He didn’t even know if he could bring himself to pull away from Harry. He so desperately wanted to be with him, but it was like the universe was throwing him sign after sign that they couldn’t and shouldn’t be together.

On the other hand, the last time he decided to completely cut someone off and abandon them didn’t end so well. He would be a fool to make that mistake again, but what choice did he have?

He knew that he needed to talk to Hermione. She would know what to do, she always knew what to do. But he couldn’t write to her, could he? He trusted Hermione with this information, he was sure that Harry would tell her when they were with the Weasleys over break. But if he wrote to her, what if the letter fell into the wrong hands?

Draco realized that he was going to have to deal with this alone, at least for now.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Draco was planning on immediately talking to Hermione when the train got back from Hogwarts. He came up with a plan. He was going to sit in the common room when everyone came back, and then immediately rush over to her saying that he urgently needed to talk to her about Arithmancy, that he had fallen behind on the project over break and desperately needed her help. They were going to go to the library, get one of the private rooms, and talk through everything. That way he could get her before he saw Harry, and he could get her alone.

But he had been sitting on his bed, reading Hamlet, getting so invested in it that he had completely lost track of time until he realized that the train had arrived twenty minutes ago.

He was just about to get up and go to the common room when the door had flung open and Harry walked in, shutting the door behind him.

Draco felt as if he was frozen in place. The last time he had seen Harry, he was kissing someone else. It felt as if so much had happened since then, as if his entire world had come crashing down and shattered to pieces since then. But when he stared at Harry, he felt as if nothing had changed, as if they were about to go down to Hogsmeade and grab a butterbeer and talk about Quidditch and everything was going to be okay. Except Draco knew that wasn’t true, that nothing was going to be okay anymore.

He forced himself to tear his eyes away from Harry and go back to reading his book, pretending like he wasn’t even there.

“I didn’t want to kiss Cho.”

Draco stopped breathing. His heart was pounding, waiting for the words to follow, hoping for them to be something along the lines of-  _ no.  _ No, he couldn’t do this. He had to pull himself away, he knew that it was the only way to keep them safe. It took every ounce of control for him to push all of his feelings down and not look up from his book.

“And remind me again,” he said, channeling his inner Severus Snape as he flipped a page, not lifting an eye, “why I am to care about your love life? You are free to kiss whomever you choose.”

“Draco, don’t you dare do this.  _ Please _ .”

Draco knew that if he looked up then he wasn’t going to be able to hold himself back. “I do not know what you are talking about, Potter.”

He looked up just in time to see Harry, tears beginning to form in his eyes, turn on his heels and run out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Draco felt his heart break into a million pieces. He was so close, he knew that he was  _ so  _ incredibly close. He knew that Harry had planned for that conversation to go a very different way, and if Draco had cooperated, they would be in a very different position.

But now he was sure that Harry hated him.

But maybe that’s what was best. If Draco could slowly pull himself back, to slowly get Harry to lose interest and go back to hating him, then everything would be okay. If he could  _ get  _ Harry to become uninterested in him, then he wouldn’t have to abruptly end things and potentially hurt him. Yes, that was exactly what Draco was going to do. It was going to destroy him, but he knew that it was for the best.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday! I rewrote the end of this chapter maybe three times, so I hope my work paid off. Honestly, I kinda struggled with writing this chapter and thought it was going to end up being pretty short. But it is officially THE longest chapter (so far)! So yay!
> 
> I definitely enjoyed this chapter, and hopefully you will too. Yes, it's full of angst again, but hopefully it's all worth it in the end ;)

Draco didn’t know how he was going to do this. He couldn’t hurt Harry, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. But how was he supposed to pull himself away? Every time Draco looked at Harry, it was like time had stopped and nothing else mattered, nothing except Harry, and Draco would let himself get pulled into Harry’s gaze. How was he supposed to resist that? He was going to have to do it slowly, and it was going to hurt, but it was the only way. The only thing that he was afraid of was Hermione noticing. And of course, she did.

Harry must have said something to her once he stormed out of the door. She was Harry’s friend too, and Draco didn’t want to lose her, and he didn’t want her to have to pick a side. She didn’t deserve to get dragged into his mess, everything was Draco’s fault. But he was sure that Harry had spoken to her because she would not stop staring at Draco intently as they ate breakfast the next morning.

“So,” Ron said, not bothering to fully chew his sausages as he spoke. “I think Harry has a lot to tell us about, don’t you, mate?”

Harry didn’t lift his head as he stabbed at his food with his fork. “No, I don’t. Not really.” He said.

“C’mon,” Ron prodded, “I _never_ get in on all the good drama. Now I get the chance to hear it from the source? Spill!”

“Ron, stop it!” Hermione said. “Harry clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, leave him alone!”

Harry glanced up to give her a small smile, secretly thanking her, and it made Draco angry. Harry hadn’t even acknowledged his presence this entire time. But isn’t that what he wanted?

“At least tell us _something._ I’ve heard so many rumors that I don’t know-”

“What rumors?” Harry interrupted Ron as he abruptly lifted his head up. “What have people been saying?”

Draco chimed in, his voice dripping with snark. “Well, for one, I heard she was crying. Really that bad of a kisser, are you, Potter?” There, that was sure to rile him up.

“Why do you care? I thought you said you didn’t give a shit about my love life?” Harry snapped.

Draco simply shrugged and went back to being ignored.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Hermione called after him when he left the Great Hall later. Draco was on his way to spend a nice Sunday in the library, and was planning on having approximately zero human contact. He pretended to not hear Hermione as he weaved through the crowd leaving breakfast, but there was no avoiding her when they got to the library. “What are you playing at?” She continued to badger him in a hushed voice as they entered.

Could he trust her? 

“What are you doing?” She protested as Draco grabbed her arm and led her into a study room, casting a charm so that no one could hear their conversation. “Draco, no one knows what is going _on_ with you! Don’t shut yourself away like this!”

“Snape told me,” he said. When she looked confused, he took a deep breath and continued. “Snape told me about Harry’s dream, about Arthur Weasley. About what it means, and I am sure Harry told you.”

“So that gives you an excuse to run around and be a dick?” She scolded him.

“I just can’t do it,” he admitted in a defeated sigh as he collapsed into a chair. He ran a hand through his hair, taking another deep breath. He could hardly come to terms with this by himself, how was he going to have a conversation without breaking down like the absolute mess that he was? How was it that four months ago, he had no emotions at all, and suddenly he was experiencing almost every single one at once?

Hermione took the seat next to him and gently placed her hand on his elbow, snapping him out of his mind and into reality. “Just talk to me, okay? What’s going on?”

Draco placed his hand on top of hers, the contact of their skin grounding him into the library, into a place that was real. “Snape told me that he was teaching Harry Occlumency, and that I, er, had a _presence,_ in Harry’s mind. I do not know what that means, and _yes_ that is the exact word he used. All he said was to be careful, and I am just so _scared_.” His voice cracked slightly at the end.

“So now you’re running away because you’re scared.”

“It’s not that simple!” He raised his voice, frustrated. “If it were that simple, I could ignore my fears and just go running at him. But I can’t do that. If I were with him, I would leave him vulnerable, I would give Voldemort this perfect opportunity to-” his voice broke off. He couldn’t even say it.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Draco. No one is going to _die-_ ”

“Are you kidding me?” He interrupted her. “Do you understand the magnitude of what’s going on? People are beginning to disappear. If Voldemort is really back, and I believe he is, that means there’s a war coming. And do you know what happens in a war? _People die._ ”

His chest hurt. He could feel his body starting to sway, his head beginning to swim. Hermione was saying something to him, but she sounded underwater and he couldn’t hear a single word that she was saying. Draco closed his eyes, not that it made a difference, and tried to concentrate on her voice, how she was being gentle with him. He focused on the touch of their hands.

“Ten Death Eaters just broke out of Azkaban.” He interrupted her. “ _Ten._ Two years ago, Sirius Black was the first person to ever break out, and now there are _ten_ of them. Including my absolutely deranged aunt. Do you know how dangerous these people are? And they are all just running around, doing Merlin only knows what?”

He opened his eyes to see her staring right into his. “Well, that’s why we have the DA, we’re going to learn to protect ourselves, and-”

“The only way I can protect him is to hurt him.”

“Draco,” Hermione said, “the _only_ way? Really?”

“I don’t want to do it!” He yelled. “It’s _killing_ me inside. Do you know how hard it is for me to sleep in the same room as him at night? To see him at every meal, to run into him every waking minute, and I just have to sit there and pretend to hate him?”

“Merlin, Harry’s the one with the savior complex, okay? We don’t need you piling onto that too.” When Draco didn’t say anything in response, she continued in a defeated voice. “Look, Harry’s my friend too. I don’t want to see either of you getting hurt, and I think you’re being absolutely ridiculous right now. Why would you do this? You remember what a mess everything was when you tried to withdraw yourself from me. You’re leaving him completely in the dark and honestly, you’re just being a dick. Just _talk_ to him, okay? Just be honest with him.”

Draco agreed, and said he would try, but he had no idea how he was going to be able to do that. 

And he broke his promise, because he started avoiding being alone with Harry. He made sure that they were never in the dorm alone together, he made sure to always show up late to meals so Ron or Hermione would be there as well, and he made sure to never walk alone in the halls unless he was in a large crowd. When he was with Harry, he made it a point to be as cold and quiet as possible. Whenever he did speak, he would be snappy and snarky, but not in the playful way that they had been in the past month, but in the same way they had fought before they had become friends. He could see Harry getting frustrated. He hated the idea of Harry hating him, but it was the easiest way to end things without hurting him. He knew that he was being a dick, and that it wasn’t a good idea, but once he started he couldn’t stop.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Draco hated these early morning practices. 

He hated having to wake up this early and mess up his routine. He hated that he wasn’t even awake by the time he was on his broom and he hated that he still had to go to class after leaving everything he had out on the pitch.

He would usually spend extra time in the shower so that he had some time to be alone and relax under the running water. He let his mind water as he stood there, letting the water just simply fall over him, not caring that his hair was in his eyes. Draco also liked spending the extra time because it usually meant he was one of the last ones in the locker room. He was able to change and take care of his hair without feeling like there were a million eyes watching him every second.

Draco turned off the shower, listening for anyone else. He couldn’t hear any showers running, and he couldn’t hear any voices or footsteps, either, so he had a good chance of being alone. 

He let out a sigh of relief at this, grabbing his towel and drying himself off before he slipped into his school robes. He picked up his neatly folded practice uniform and started to walk over to his locker so that he could pack up his stuff, fix his hair, and go.

But he was wrong, he wasn’t the only one left in the locker room. This wouldn’t be so much of a problem if the only other person hadn’t been Harry.

Harry had moved quickly, as if he had been waiting for Draco. Before Draco could realize what was going on, he was pinned up against the locker staring into Harry’s wild and angry eyes.

“What the hell was that for? What is your problem?” Draco yelled.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Harry spat as he tightened his grip on Draco’s arms, pushing him even further against the wall. Draco felt his stomach drop “What the hell is _your_ problem?”

“Watch it Potter, your temper is getting out of control again.” It took every ounce of control for Draco to stay calm and not sink down to Harry’s level, as he knew that it would piss him off even more.

“And I have perfectly good reason to,” Harry snapped in return.

Draco scoffed. “Care to share your thoughts?”

“You’re being an absolute _asshole!_ ” Harry had loosened his grip just enough so that Draco no longer felt as if he was trapped, but still enough to keep him in place. 

“So you are going to go around shoving me into walls again? I thought we moved past that back in October.” 

“So did I,” Harry said, “ but I _also_ thought we moved past being a cold heartless dick.”

Draco thought back to what Hermione said. _Just be honest with him,_ but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.“I do not know what you are referring to.”

“You know bloody well what I’m talking about! I just don’t know _why,_ and you aren’t leaving until you tell me.” Harry said, almost threateningly. He was beginning to wear Draco down, and both of them knew it. Draco could only keep up this cold facade for so long before he either burst into a ball of anger or ran away, just as he always did.

Draco finally mustered out a few heartless words.“I do not know why you care so much.”

“Don’t lie to yourself, _Malfoy,_ ” Draco winced when Harry used his last name, feeling a sharp sting in his stomach. “You saw what happened to Hermione when you did this to her. And your relationship with her wasn’t even _close_ to what we have.”

He was right, he had _devastated_ Hermione. What was Potter admitting to? _Wasn’t even close to what we have._ Draco was better friends with Hermione than Harry, so he clearly wasn’t talking about their friendship.

A flutter of butterflies erupted in Draco’s stomach, and he felt like he was going to be sick. He tried to push past Harry, to move his arm out of his way, but he wouldn’t budge.

“I am going to be late to potions. Please let me go.”

“No,” Harry said. He was no longer yelling at him, but he was still up in his face, his voice stern.

Draco tried to push past Harry again.

“I told you, you’re not going to leave until I get an explanation as to why you’re doing this! I don’t even need an apology, even though I fucking deserve one. I just want you to tell me what’s going on, _please._ ”

He felt trapped. He couldn’t move, no matter how hard he tried, and it caused him to start to panic. Harry was too close to him, so close that Draco couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, the only thing he could concentrate on was his head and his stomach and his lungs and his chest all simultaneously screaming at him, but there was nothing he could do about it because he was trapped. 

“Please just let me go,” Draco pleaded.

“Why are you being so difficult?” Harry demanded, but the rest of his words began to fade and Draco couldn’t hear what he was saying. 

The butterflies in his stomach started exploding into his chest. Except this time it was not a dull, warm ache, but it rather felt like his chest was being stabbed by thousands of tiny little knives, the butterflies multiplying exponentially and stabbing at his heart. He was certain that at any moment, the knives were going to win and his heart was going to collapse and his chest was going to implode in on itself, and he was going to die. He must be dying, that’s the only explanation for feeling this way. He was going to die here in the Quidditch locker room and-

 _“Draco.”_ The voice was underwater, far away, but he managed to grasp onto it, letting it drag him out from underwater and back into reality. “Look at me, please, just look at me.”

“I can’t,” Draco choked out. He couldn’t look at Harry or else his chest would explode and his heart was going to collapse and he was going to die. “I can’t.”

“Listen to me, you’re okay, alright?” The voice was soft, so much different than the angry one that was yelling at him before. The voice was calm and smooth, gentle like the rolling of soft waves across the sea. Draco felt a hand rest on his jawline, the fingers warm against his cold skin. “I need you to take a deep breath, okay? I’m going to count to ten while you take a deep breath, can you do that for me?”

Draco nodded even though he didn’t believe he could. But he listened to Harry, breathing in until Harry counted to ten, then breathing out while he started over counted back up again. The stinging in his chest was still there, but it was going away.

“Can you look around and tell me three things that you see?”

Draco didn’t even realize that his eyes were closed. He opened his eyes, blinking away the tears that blurred his vision. “Um, I can see-” The only thing he can focus on is Harry’s face, right there in front of his, the green eyes piercing into his own. Harry’s lips are softly parted in a worrying expression. He thinks for a second that he could lean forward, and- _no._ He coughed. “Um, your glasses are crooked. And your hair is a mess. And I can see your stupid scar.”

He was suddenly aware of the position he was in. He had slid his back down the lockers so that he was sitting on the cold floor, his hands clutching the front of his shirt in front of his chest. Harry was kneeling in front of him, one hand resting on Draco’s jaw.

Harry sighed contently and moved so that he was sitting next to Draco, putting his arm around Draco’s shoulders as they sat there and stared at the opposite wall of lockers. Draco instinctively placed his head on Harry’s shoulder as his hand loosened its grip on his shirt. _Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, would it?_

They sat there in silence for a while. “I’m so sorry,” Harry finally said. 

“What?” Draco lifted his head off his shoulder. “What are you sorry for?”

“Oh, this is only the second time I’ve driven you to a panic attack. That’s totally normal and healthy, isn’t it?” Harry snapped. He had removed his arm from around Draco’s shoulder and started picking at his nails as he stared at his hands.

“Hey,” Draco said, his voice soft as he placed one of his hands on top of Harry’s. “ _You_ didn’t do anything. I did that to myself. _You_ were there to help me through it, and that’s what matters. Thank you.”

“I still was being an ass to you,” Harry sighed, “I should have let you go.

Draco managed a nonchalant shrug.“I deserved it.”

“Stop that,” Harry opened his mouth like he was going to continue, but couldn’t seem to find the words to say as he shut his mouth with an annoyed expression.

“How are you not yelling at me right now?” Draco said. “Two minutes ago you were screaming in my face.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.” His voice was a soft whisper.

“Are you okay?” Draco asked in rebuttal.

Harry didn’t respond.

“We will talk later, yeah? I promise.”

Harry nodded, not making eye contact with Draco. They helped each other up off the floor and walked together, silently, back to the castle.

But it seemed as if the Universe wanted to keep them apart, as they never did get the chance to speak with each other that day. Draco had spent the past few days so meticulously avoiding being alone with Harry, but now when he needed it more than ever, he wasn’t able to.

They didn’t even speak at breakfast, since Hermione thought it would be best to go over plans for the next DA meeting. During lunch, Alicia had called an informal quidditch team meeting to go over what happened in practice that morning. And Harry had an Occlumency lesson with Snape after dinner, so Harry had rushed to eat as much as he could before it, not speaking to any of them.

Draco had planned to wait up for Harry. He was going to catch him in the common room when he came back. Draco knew he would be exhausted, so even if Harry wasn’t up for conversation, Draco could at least support him from his lesson. 

But first, Draco was just going to close his eyes as he lay in his bed, just for a brief moment. His eyes had grown heavy from reading. Harry wasn’t due to come back from his lesson for another hour, Draco could spare a minute or two to relax.

He was alone in the room when he closed his eyes, but he opened them abruptly when something had moved. Had he heard the door slam shut? Draco sat upright in his bed, still fully clothed. The motion caused his open book to fall off his chest and onto the floor. It was dark outside and the rest of the boys were asleep in their beads, meaning that Draco had really closed his eyes for a few hours. He cast a quick tempus charm and saw that it was half-past two in the morning.

 _Goddamit, you idiot,_ Draco thought to himself. As he scanned the room, he realized that there was one empty bed and it was Harry's. As he pieced everything together in his still fuzzy, dreamlike state, Draco realized Harry must’ve had another nightmare. It made sense, he was probably exhausted from his Occlumency lesson that he had nothing left inside him to put up a fight in his sleep.

Draco was quick on his feet. When he reached the common room, sure enough, Harry there. He was sitting there alone on the couch in front of the empty fireplaces, his legs curled up to his chest as he hugged his knees. 

Draco sat down on the couch next to him, making sure to give him a foot or two of space. “I take it the lesson didn’t go so well?” He asked.

Harry looked up at him for a brief moment before burying his face in his knees. “If you’re here to be a dick, please just fuck off.”

Draco didn’t say anything as he scooted closer to Harry, their thighs touching. When Harry didn’t flinch or move away, Draco draped an arm around Harry’s shoulders, who immediately curled into Draco’s side, Harry burying his face into Draco’s neck.

He gently moved his hand up and down Harry’s upper arm in a soothing motion. “Do you want to talk about it?” Draco mumbled into his hair.

“Not really,” Harry swallowed as he shook his head. “I mean, I’m just kind of ashamed more than anything, really.”

“What?” Draco pulled his head back, placing his fingers under Harry’s jaw, tilting it upwards. “Harry, look at me. You have _nothing_ to be ashamed of! Why do you feel like that.”

Harry sighed, avoiding eye contact. “I dunno, it’s just that I’ve had like three lessons with Snape and I’m not making _any_ progress at all. And this is the situation I’m supposed to be using it for, and it’s like I haven’t had a single lesson!”

“Do you know how advanced Occlumency is? Do you know how few wizards are able to master it? The fact that you’ve made it through three lessons without collapsing is astonishing,” Draco assured him. “Plus, it’ll take you a while to do it in your dreams. You’re bloody unconscious, for Merlin’s sake.”

Harry bit back a small smile. “I guess when you put it that way,” he said, but his smile fell. “Snape told me that you were able to do it. He said if you could do it, then it would be easy for me.”

Draco chuckled. “First of all, I’m hurt. Second of all, I don’t know if I’d still be able to do it, it’s been a while since I’ve practiced. In order to master Occlumency you have to completely shut down your emotions and not bite back at _anything._ I dunno if you’ve noticed, but I used to be the master of being emotionless.”

“I wish I could be more like you,” Harry blurted.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that? I’m sort of a mess.”

Harry didn’t say anything in response. Normally, Draco would push on, but he felt like he was walking on eggshells around Harry. Draco had expected Harry to blow up at him the second that Draco came down the stairs, but he didn’t, and Draco was going to try to hold onto this gentleness for as long as he could.

Looking down at Harry, he felt a pang in his chest. Here Harry was, with a dark wizard literally manipulating his mind and ashamed that he was unable to defend himself against it. The pain that Harry was probably in, the pain that Harry had felt as a child thrown into a war was _nothing_ compared to anything Draco had felt before. And Draco had thought it would be a good idea to run away. How could he be such an _idiot_? There was no way that he was going to leave Harry alone in any of this. Draco cared about him far too much to do that. Merlin, he was so fucking stupid sometimes.

He suddenly cherished the fact that he was sitting there with Harry in his arms. Draco tightened his grip around Harry’s shoulders, never wanting to let go.

Draco found his other hand running through Harry’s hair, his fingers playing with the individual strands, trying to smooth it out before messing it back up again. It made him think back to the last time this had happened, to how the two of them had sat like this for hours before finally falling asleep on the couch together. Draco remembered how _happy_ he felt when he woke up next to Harry, a happiness that he didn’t ever think he had felt before. This time around it was almost painful.

His hand trailed down the slide of Harry’s head, his thumb grazing over the lightning scar. He traced it with his finger slowly, again and again, feeling an overwhelming sense of sorrow. This wasn’t fair, Harry had never _asked_ for any of this.

“Stop feeling sorry for me,” Harry said.

Draco’s lips formed into a crooked smile. “So, you have been doing well at Occlumency after all?” Harry didn’t seem amused. “I’m sorry. I just, I feel like such a fucking _idiot_ after what I did. I should have never thought it would be a good idea to just turn cold and leave you alone in all of this, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to ever leave you, but if you want nothing to do with me, I would understand.”

“You’re being an idiot again,” Harry said.

“Sorry,” Draco had to catch his breath when Harry looked back up at him. He would never get tired of looking into his eyes.

Harry’s face was so close to his. Harry was still curled into Draco’s side but had lifted his head away from Draco’s shoulder so that he could talk to him better. Draco still had one arm draped around Harry, the other with his hand resting on his jaw. He was so close, all he had to do was hold him a little tighter and lean in just the smallest bit to close the gap. All he had to do was get himself to do it. Why was he so scared? Harry had been an open book lately, he had given Draco every reason to believe that the feelings he held for Harry were mutual. Even Hermione had seen it. All this fighting and tension was a byproduct of Draco’s stubbornness, and they could move past that all if Draco could just bring himself to close the space between them.

And so he did.

Harry’s lips were soft against his own. It was gentle and slow, and even though it only lasted a mere few seconds, Draco had felt that time had stopped.

Draco pulled back sooner than he would have liked, his heart beating so fast that he could hear it in his ears. He was almost afraid to open his eyes, but he did, to see Harry gazing intently back at him, his eyes dark, his lips still slightly parted and his cheeks flushed.

He should say something. Anything. But before he could string any words together, Harry had placed his hands on both sides of Draco’s face, pulling him down to continue where they had left off, Draco meeting him halfway.

The first kiss had been cautious and gentle, a tentative dip in the water. This was nothing like that. It was if as soon as Harry registered that _this_ was really happening, Draco had pulled away, and Harry was now taking his frustration out. Harry had kissed Draco _hard._ Their mouths moved quickly in sync, Draco letting out a soft moan as Harry slipped his hand through Draco’s hair and tugged at the hair above the nape of his neck.

He felt Harry smile into the kiss, which drove Draco absolutely mad. Draco’s hands were everywhere he could manage, on Harry’s hips, around Harry’s neck, slipping beneath the hem of Harry’s t-shirt, roaming around his body with an insatiable thirst. Draco couldn’t believe that this was _actually_ happening, that Harry Potter was actually, _passionately,_ kissing him, and he was blessed with the opportunity of letting his fingers explore every square inch of his skin. And it was like he couldn't get enough of him, and he didn't want to stop until the sun came up.

Draco moaned at the brush of Harry’s tongue against his lips, and he let Harry in with ease, his mind practically exploding with overwhelm. Harry’s lips tasted sweet, like chocolate with a hint of mint, and Draco wanted to chase it and kiss Harry like his life depended on it until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

They had finally pulled away, gasping for air. Draco’s hands were wrapped around Harry’s head, holding his forehead in place against his own, and Harry’s hands were doing the same. Draco opened his eyes to see Harry opening his, and the two of them sat there like this, staring into each other while breathing the same air until Harry broke the silence.

Harry’s lips had curled into a grin as he chuckled, and it sounded like music to his ears.

“Hi,” Harry breathed, his lips still close enough to Draco’s that they brushed when they moved.

Draco smiled back. “Hi.”

Lips barely touching, they giggled into each other. Draco savored every second of it, even the awkwardness, because it made it feel so very _real,_ it convinced him that this was real life and not just some fantasy dream.

Harry’s smile fell from his lips. “Please don’t run away after this,” he breathed.

Draco placed a soft kiss on Harry’s lips, much like the first one. He pulled away so that their foreheads were no longer touching. Draco trailed one hand from behind Harry’s head until it rested beneath his chin. “Listen to me. I was such a fucking idiot before, I think I absorbed some of your savior complex and thought that I could protect you by running away, but I’ve realized that is the most bloody ridiculous idea I’ve ever come up with.”

They both chuckled. “And that’s really saying something,” Harry said.

“Exactly,” Draco whispered. “But I am not going to make that mistake again. I would be an idiot to do that, anyone would. I’m not going to leave you like this, I _promise_ . I want you so badly that it drives me absolutely fucking insane. And now that I finally have you I am _not_ going to let you go."

Harry blushed in place of saying anything.

Draco continued. "Besides, I think without you around, one day I’ll have a panic attack and believe I am going to die so hard that I actually die. I need you.”

Harry laughed, and the sparkle in His eyes made Draco's heart warm. “We’re sort of fucked up, aren’t we?” Harry asked.

Draco chuckled as he nodded. “Yes, yes we are. But we’ll get through it. Together.”

“Together,” Harry breathed.

And they kissed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT HAPPENED IT HAPPENED WE'RE FINALLY THERE!! Hopefully it didn't take too long, did it? This work is already just about the same length as my longest completed work, whoops. I'm very proud of it though, I like the slow burn :)


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